


The Smoke that Roams

by lovelyleftovers



Series: Without Knowing How [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged up characters, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, College, First Love, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Sexting, Sugamama, Volleyball, Volleynerds, bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:05:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyleftovers/pseuds/lovelyleftovers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata Shouyo is nineteen years old when he falls in love for the first time.</p><p>Or: The College/Coffee Shop AU No One Asked for but Here We Are Anyway.<br/>Get ready for some awkward romance, people. It's about to go down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  
> I love you directly without problems or pride:  
> I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,  
> except in this form in which I am not nor are you,  
> so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,  
> so close that your eyes close with my dreams.  
> ~Pablo Neruda, _Sonnet XVII_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't leave me, even for an hour, because  
> then the little drops of anguish will all run together,  
> the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift  
> into me, choking my lost heart.  
> ~Pablo Neruda, _Don't Go Far Off_

Hinata Shouyo is nineteen years old when he falls in love for the first time.  


He’d been out for a run, and when he’d come to the end of the street where he normally turned back, he took a right. It was mid-spring, and the sun was out and the wind was just right. He couldn’t turn back now, right when his muscles felt like they were just starting to warm up.  


He entered a park at a dead sprint, slowing down to a jog once he was under the shade of trees. People were lazing about on the grass, and some girls tittered as he flashed them a peace sign on his way past. It was a perfect day. He was grinning—he only knew because it was hard to breathe around his teeth.  


It was then that his eyes latched onto someone running towards him.  


The guy was taller than Shouyo, his body all long and lean, broad shoulders dipping into slim hips. He had sharp, angular features, almost royal-looking cheekbones Shouyo thought absently. Dark hair flopped rhythmically into the guy’s eyes, bouncing in time with his steps.  


It was his eyes that sucked the air from Shouyo’s lungs. They were a bright, piercing blue, and Shouyo thought he saw his own wonder reflected in them as they caught the sunlight between the trees.  


This is the moment Shouyo falls in love for the first time. It’s only a few seconds of eye contact, both men turning their faces to keep staring as they pass each other. Shouyo turns and jogs backwards, his eyes on the guy’s retreating form. Unlike Shouyo, he does not turn around.  


Without stopping to think, Shouyo sprints to his favorite coffee shop on the college campus where Shouyo works. He approaches the counter in a rush, a grin lighting him from the inside out.  


“Hinata!” A silver-haired man laughs at him excitedly. “Want your usual?”  


“Not today, Suga,” Shouyo breathes. “But have I got something to tell you.”

 

Shouyo begins to run through the park every single day.  


Sometimes the guy isn’t there, but the times he is totally makes up for it. At first they just stared at each other, like the first time.  


Once Shouyo flashed him a smile, but the guy tripped right after that and Shouyo obsessed the rest of the day whether his impulsive laughter pissed the guy off or not.  


“I’ve ruined everything,” Shouyo groaned into his pillow.  


“I’m sure it’s fine.” His friend-also-roommate Yamaguchi gave him a warm smile, pushing a plate of food across their table at him.  


He knew he was driving his friends absolutely crazy. He couldn’t stop talking most of the time, but it was even worse when he really felt like he had something to talk about. This wasn’t a crush—it was _love._ Shouyo spent most of his waking moments trying to recall every minute facial expression, every line of muscle on the skin he could see, and even what kind of clothes he wore (he only seemed to own white, black, or dark blue t-shirts).  


“You should just talk to him,” Suga advises over a latte one day.  


Shouyo slouches over the counter. He’s just out of range of the steady flow of customers, though occasionally people will step around him to get to the extra sugary-stuff station off to his right.  


“It’s not that easy.” He aims his best puppy-dog expression at Suga.  


Suga hums as he hands a customer their muffin with a smile, moving down to where Shouyo is sulking. “I think it probably is.”  


“What do you know,” Shouyo whines. “You aren’t dating anyone either.”  


Suga arches a delicate eyebrow, folding his arms and putting them down on the counter to meet Shouyo’s eyes. “I’ve been with more people than you have.”  


“I know that!” Shouyo says. He stands up suddenly, putting his arms out in front of him. “But you haven’t _seen_ this guy—”  


Even as he’s still talking, he realizes that taking a step back was a mistake. Suga’s eyes widen a split second before someone crashes into Shouyo’s left side. 

He yelps as hot liquid pours over his bare arm.  


“Fuck!”  


The exclamation is loud, emanating from a deep voice, and Shouyo’s wide eyes turn towards the sound, even as Suga reaches out and drags him half over the counter, swiping his skin with a towel kept around for spills.  


“I’m so sorry!” He means to babble on, but his mouth is left hanging open, wordless, when his gaze comes into contact with the man he’s spent so much time memorizing.  


His sharp features cause his scowl to be even more menacing. He’s staring down at himself, hand clutching his wet shirt away from his torso. He has a thick corded bracelet on his wrist.  


Shouyo quickly drags his eyes over him. He’s wearing a gray slouchy hat, green v-neck, and dark blue sweater, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up. A quick glance down tells Shouyo that it should be ILLEGAL for this guy to wear skinny jeans, and he’s got solid blue skater shoes on.  


As he brings his eyes up to stare at Shoyou, the blue fire ignites across Shouyo’s skin as if he’d been touched. Recognition flickers through the expression, and the next time those blue eyes blink, they’re more confused than angry.  


“Are you okay, sir? I’m so sorry!”  


The guy shifts his gaze to Suga, which leaves Shouyo enough air to keep himself from passing out.  


“I’m fine—”  


Shouyo finds his voice leaping from his throat, cutting off the dark gravel of the man in front of him. “Oh my God, oh my God, I’m so sorry ohmygod.”  


He’s less angry now, Shouyo notes somewhere in the back of his mind, his eyebrows lilting upwards. He still looks confused like he can’t decide whether to be amused or not. It doesn’t stop the mortified panic unfurling in Shouyo’s chest.  


“Really, it’s—”  


“I’ll buy you another. Do you want another? I mean, I should do that, right?” Shouyo glances at Suga, who looks extremely pained. Shouyo pulls out of Suga’s grip, running his hand over the sensitive skin almost dry on his arm. “Ohmygod.”  


The guy’s eyebrows come together as he follows the movement of Shouyo’s hand. “Are you—”  


“Do you need, like, a towel or something? Are you hurt? Did you get burned?” Shouyo wrings his hands together. “I’m _so_ sorry.”  


“Shut up!”  


Shouyo’s body tenses all over at the volume of the command. He blinks up at the delicious man in front of him, who seems more than highly agitated, before instantly wilting.  


“I’m sorry,” he says miserably.  


“It’s fine.” The guy accepts a towel from Suga, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. His cheeks are turning redder by the second, which is highly attractive on his high cheekbones, and he dabs at his shirt awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to shout. What I meant to say was that I’m fine. Are you okay?”  


Shouyo blinks at him. He gestures at Shouyo’s arm, which causes him to look down. His skin is tight and uncomfortable under his wet shirt and the side of his jeans, and his arm is a vibrant pink.  


“Oh,” he says. He instantly feels stupid and rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  


“Good.” The two regard each other for a moment. Shouyo’s stomach does a funny little woosh in his body.  


“Tobio-chan, what the hell are you doing?”  


Shouyo notes the darkening of the guy’s expression before he twists to see the speaker. Shouyo rises up on his toes to see a handsome, brown-haired boy glaring at them. He looks kind of familiar to Shouyo, but he’s too preoccupied with thinking about how Tobio is a really nice name to figure it out.  


The other boy’s expression instantly brightens and he starts laughing. “You’re all wet!”  


“Are you okay?” A shorter guy with black spiky hair appears behind them.  


“I’m fine.” A sigh. “I have to go home and change.”  


The brown-haired kid shoves Tobio to the side, grinning with all the friendliness of a great white. “My name is Oikawa Tooru, and I would like to thank you for making my entire day worthwhile.” The smile gets wider. “Nice to meet you, chibi-chan.”  


“Don’t call him that,” Tobio snaps, suddenly furious again. “You’re such an asshole.”  


Oikawa sniffs. “So vulgar, Tobio-chan.”  


Things suddenly click for Shouyo, and he shouts, “You’re Oikawa Tooru-san!”  


Three pairs of eyes turn to him slowly. Oikawa cocks his head, looking genuinely surprised. “I did say that, yes.”  


Shouyo claps and points at the dark haired guy. “And you’re Iwaizumi Hajime-san!”  


“Hinata.” Suga’s voice has more than a touch of warning in it, but Shouyo can hardly hear him.  


“And you’re Kageyama Tobio-san!” Shouyo laughs brightly. “You guys are on the volleyball team! O-ow! Suga, stop!”  


Suga tightens his hold on Shouyo’s ear, his eyes amused but his lips pursed. “You’re scaring my customers, and you’ve already scalded one of them. No more volleyball talk.”  


Shouyo thinks about disobeying Suga, his eyes wandering back towards the players. They’re looking on in amusement, which he thinks is a good sign, even if Kageyama’s eyes are more intense than amused. But then Suga twists his wrist and Shouyo yelps.  


“Ouch, my earring!” Shouyo grabs Suga’s wrist, and he feels Suga ease up a little. They meet eyes before Shouyo droops. “Okay, no more volleyball, I got it.”  


Suga releases him with a bright smile. Shouyo fiddles with his earring as he glances back at the players. “Sorry.”  


Iwaizumi chuckles before checking his phone. “You want another coffee, or what, Kageyama? We have to leave.”  


“I’ll buy it,” Shouyo blurts.  


Kageyama clears his throat. “It’s fine. No more coffee today.”  


Iwaizumi nods and grabs Oikawa’s jacket by the collar. “Nice to meet you, Hinata.”  


“Oh, you, too!” Shouyo calls as Iwaizumi drags Oikawa towards the register.  


Oikawa squawks indignantly, and Shouyo hears him whine, “Iwa-chan, rude! Let me talk to my fans!”  


“You like volleyball?”  


Shouyo turns his focus back to Kageyama, whose eyes are gleaming. Suga groans before snagging the towel from Kageyama and moving away. “You’ve dug your own grave, Kageyama-san!”  


Shouyo makes a face at him. “I _love_ volleyball. Suga and I played on the same team in high school, and we were pretty decent. Now we play in a club with some older guys, and I assist my sister’s team when I can.”  


“What position do you play?” At this point, Kageyama has unclenched his shirt and he seems more relaxed. Shouyo watches as his hand comes up to fiddle with the edge of his hat, or to adjust his bangs every once in a while.  


“I go back and forth between wing spiker and middle blocker, wherever they need me really,” he says. He can’t keep the breathy excitement out of his voice.  


“Do you go to school here?”  


Shouyo shakes his head. “I work grounds crew and maintenance. My sister’s probably going to go to college, though, she’s really smart. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you! When I saw you running, I mean. I watch all your games.”  


Kageyama shifts his weight and shrugs awkwardly with one shoulder. “I mean, I don’t play matches, with Oikawa being a regular and me being a first year. So.”  


“But you’re still on the team,” Shouyo says. “Which makes you important.”  


Kageyama’s eyes flicker over his face, and his expression seems surprised. “Yeah,” he says eventually.  


“Tobio-chan, _let’s go._ ”  


Both Shouyo and Kageyama jump, which makes them shy. Kageyama nods once, heavily, before turning away.  


Shouyo lets him get a few steps before he calls out, “See ya around?”  


Kageyama twists and sends Shouyo a wave and what might be a tiny smile before Iwaizumi slaps him on the back and they’re gone.  


Shouyo slumps back against the counter, groaning at the ceiling. Of course he would fall for a gorgeous genius setter with impossibly blue eyes and arms toned enough to want to lick.  


A rag hits Shouyo in the head. Suga barks, “Clean up that mess if you’re going to mope here!”  


“Yes, sir,” Shouyo says, though it’s considerably less miserable sounding than he expects. It wasn’t the greatest first impression, but he could— _would_ —do better next time.  


He would make sure there was a next time.

 

“Tobio-chan has a boyfriend~”  


Tobio sends Oikawa a nasty glare. “I do not.”  


Some of the other players look over at them in surprise, which makes Tobio’s glower worse. He unwittingly presses his knee too hard into Daichi’s back, which makes the other player yelp.  


“Sorry, Daichi-san.” He immediately eases off.  


Daichi twists his head to side-eye Tobio. “What’s he saying?”  


“Tobio-chan met a very cute, very orange chibi-chan, and they’re probably going to kiss and make babies and ride off into the sunset together.” Oikawa smirks and puts a hand on his hip, leveling Tobio with one of his haughtily perceptive stares. “Or whatever the equivalent is for ugly people.”  


Tobio bristles. “God, I talked to the guy for two minutes.”  


“He was cute,” Iwaizumi adds.  


Oikawa scoffs and waves his hand noncommittally.  


“What’s he look like?” Daichi asks.  


“Uh, he’s small—only comes up to Kageyama’s jaw. Bright orange hair, some freckles. Really big eyes. Earring in his right ear. Looked kinda fit, like maybe he works out. Volleyball fan, too.” Iwaizumi and Daichi share a look and Tobio wants to die just a little bit.  


“Iwa-chan! Why did you look at him so much?”  


Beneath the syrupy voice, Kageyama thinks he detects real annoyance. He smirks and moves away so Daichi can stand.  


Iwaizumi also clamors to his feet, his grin aimed at Tobio. “Hard not to. The guy’s a firecracker.”  


“Firecracker? What’s that supposed to mean?” Oikawa demands.  


Iwaizumi blinks at Oikawa before turning and walking away.  


“ _Iwa-chan!_ ”  


Daichi chuckles as he watches the display before elbowing Tobio in the ribs. “What’s his name?”  


“Hinata Shouyo,” Kageyama answers immediately. He feels himself turn red and he furrows his brow. “He’s not my boyfriend. I didn’t even speak to him until he dumped my coffee on me.”  


Daichi’s laughter booms across the gym. “Sounds like a romantic first meeting.”  


Tobio smirks as Iwaizumi pelts Oikawa with a ball. “I mean, we run past each other most days in the park, so it was only the first time we’ve spoken.”  


Daichi’s quiet for so long that Tobio glances down at him. His senpai is regarding him seriously enough for Kageyama’s face to burn red all the way to his ears.  


“What?” he demands, though his tone is always softer with Daichi than others.  


“I’ve known you for, like, half a year now. I’ve seen you turn down confessions from guys _and_ girls. You’ve only ever shown an interest in volleyball,” Daichi says.  


Kageyama frowns. “I’ve been with people, Daichi.”  


“Yeah, I know. But not _seriously._ ”  


“So?”  


Daichi sighs at the ceiling. “So you’re considering this Hinata person.”  


“I am not!” Kageyama splutters.  


“Yeah, okay,” Daichi says. “You should bring him around sometime if he’s a fan.”  


“We aren’t friends.” Tobio sighs. “Plus, he’s not a fan. He’s a player. Wing spiker and middle blocker, depending on where he’s needed.”  


Tobio jogs across the court before Daichi can respond. He’s not sure he wants to make a big deal about this, not when he doesn’t understand why now whenever he sees someone with an undercut it makes his stomach clench in a funny way, or why he looked forward to making eye contact with a stranger in the park more than he looked forward to tossing at practice.  


It’s new. So much so it hasn’t even begun to feel fragile yet. So Tobio wants to keep it quiet, close to his chest. He wants to enjoy it, whatever it is, if this is all it’s ever going to be, then he wants to treasure it his own way.  


He hopes this is just the beginning, but he knows better than to put his faith in hope.

 

Tobio finds himself at the café three days later. His coach chastised him for overworking, so he hasn’t been on his personal run. He’s been itching, but knows better than to endanger his body. He knows it’s a long shot, but he’s still disappointed when he doesn’t spot a shock of messy orange hair anywhere.  


“He’s not here, is he?” Daichi asks quietly beside him.  


Tobio starts and stares at him. He’d asked Daichi for coffee, but hadn’t told him why they’d gone to this coffee house specifically. Daichi simply offers him a small smile.  


“Kageyama-san!”  


Tobio drifts over to Suga, who’s grinning at him over the counter. “Kageyama’s fine.”  


Suga nods kindly. Kageyama notes the sharpness of his gaze, reminding him of Oikawa, but also not: he’s analyzing, but not for flaws it seems. He watches that gaze shift over to Daichi, and the smile gets a little wider.  


“What can I get you two?” Suga asks.  


“Black coffee?” Kageyama picks at the brim of his beanie nervously.  


“Same,” Daichi says warmly.  


Suga nods and grabs cups and turns away, shifting his weight to one foot as he fiddles around and gets their coffee. A few customers come in, and Suga greets them all by name even as someone else takes their orders. Tobio notices Daichi looking at Suga’s ass, but keeps his face neutral as Suga spins back around.  


Kageyama furrows his brow as he picks up his cup. There’s a number scrawled on it. “Uh.”  


“That is the number for our little ray of sunshine,” Suga explains. “Hinata’s not much of a texter, but I think it’s probably a good place to start.”  


Daichi laughs and slaps Kageyama on the back hard enough for him to jerk forward a step. “At least our trip here wasn’t wasted!”  


Kageyama coughs behind his hand to cover up his blush. “That’s not…”  


“Don’t be shy, Kageyama. Although!” Suga puts his arms on the counter and leans his face closer to Tobio’s. “If you hurt him, I’ll have to kill you, probably.”  


Tobio is pretty sure his mouth drops open. Suga’s expression is still open and amused, a friendly smile on his lips. He looks innocent enough, with his silvery hair and cute mole, but that only serves to make his threat more terrifying.  


“Suga! You’re not Hinata’s mom, you know.”  


Tobio shifts his gaze to a freckled boy with long hair sliding behind the counter. Suga clucks his tongue and winks at Tobio. “You’re late, Yama! And if someone doesn’t watch out for Hinata, he’ll probably die. He can be such a ditz sometimes.”  


“Didn’t he dump coffee on you, Kageyama?” Daichi asks.  


Kageyama sighs. “It was an accident. We ran into each other.”  


“Besides!” Suga surges up suddenly, pointing at Kageyama triumphantly. “Kageyama is a volleyball player, too! They’re fated. I know it.”  


“That doesn’t mean anything,” Kageyama snaps. “You’re a player, too, aren’t you?”  


“You play?” Daichi asks.  


“Just for fun, now.” Suga smiles. “I’m a setter.”  


“Wing spiker!” Daichi grins. “Kageyama and I are on the team together. Sawamura Daichi.”  


“Sugawara Koushi, pleased to meet you.”  


“Well, maybe you two are fated, then,” Kageyama says irritably.  


Suga hums, his eyes still locked intently on Daichi. “Perhaps.”  


Tobio actually laughs when Daichi turns as red as a late-season tomato.  


“Text him, Kageyama!” Suga orders, backing away from them.  


“What, I don’t get a number?” Daichi asks.  


Suga laughs and pushes his way into the café’s kitchen. “Maybe next time, if you’re lucky.”  


As they leave, Tobio knows Daichi will be back, probably as soon as tomorrow. As he drags his thumb slowly across the numbers on his cup, he can’t find it in him to tease Daichi. He understands completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY BEGINNING.
> 
> This is the first chapter of part one of a ~planned~ five part series centering around different character's relationships. All the titles of the parts, as well as the collection title, are from Pablo Neruda poems, especially from his 100 Sonnets collection.
> 
> I'm so excited to start this project. I hope you enjoy the ride with me! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hinata gives Kageyama volleyball advice, and Kageyama thinks he might have caught some feelings, maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't leave me, even for an hour, because  
> then the little drops of anguish will all run together,  
> the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift  
> into me, choking my lost heart.  
> ~Pablo Neruda, Don't Go Far Off

Shouyo takes to waiting for Kageyama in the park. He never sees him, which doesn't bother him much. At first. After the fourth day, his natural optimism is rapidly dwindling. He doesn’t say anything to Suga or Yamaguchi, but he sees them exchanging a look when his laugh is just shy of ‘too bright to be real.’

“At least you had the courage to talk to him,” Asahi offers at work.

It’s been a week since he’d run into Kageyama—literally. “I guess.”

Asahi crouches next to Shouyo, and they start spreading mulch around with gloved hands. It smells like rot and maybe also manure, but it’s a heavy, comfortable smell that Shouyo enjoys. He wipes sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm, lifting his face and closing his eyes.

“You’re charismatic, Hinata. Lots of people like you—you could really date anyone you want,” Asahi reminds him.

“Maybe,” Shouyo allows. “But none of those people are like him.”

“I think maybe you’ve kind of built him up into someone you want him to be rather than someone he is?”

Shouyo flicks a dirt clump at Asahi before standing. “You’re one to talk! How long have you been staring at that short guy with the dark hair?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Asahi sighs and gestures for Shouyo to bring more mulch. 

“Don’t apologize,” Shouyo says. He grunts as he takes a full shovel from the wheelbarrow and spreads it under a nearby tree. “I’m just saying that we’re probably alike, maybe.”

“It’s hard to get to know people,” Asahi says. He stands and grabs a flower palate, crouching next to a bed down the row they haven’t mulched yet. “But that doesn’t mean you should give up, right? And the next time you see him, you’ll be ready to talk to him. Maybe without burning him.”

“I think he’s probably avoiding me, since he hasn’t been through the park since then.” Shouyo wipes at his face again. “God, Asahi, you should see his legs.”

Asahi chuckles. Shouyo turns and watches his friend dig little holes and gently set the plants in. He treats them carefully, which is partly why he won’t let Shouyo handle them. Shouyo insists that he’d be careful, but he knows now that it’s more so the fact that it’s Asahi’s favorite part of grounds keeping: taking care of the flowers.

“Why don’t you date anyone, Asahi?” Shouyo asks.

Asahi jumps a little. “Um.”

“I mean, you’re really good looking, and you’re kind, and smart.”

“I’m not that smart. Or good looking.”

“You are,” Shouyo insists. “You’ve got a lot to offer someone.”

“I will find someone when I’m ready.” Asahi smiles a little at Shouyo before grabbing another palate. “I’m not one for, uh, casual relationships. And it’s hard to find someone like-minded at our age.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Shouyo says. He kicks the mulch around under the tree and ignores Asahi’s pained expression. “Sometimes it’s nice to just have sex, though. It’s nice not to get out of practice, or whatever.”

Asahi laughs again, but this time it’s stilted and awkward. “Well, for me I think it’s too late for that.”

“What’s that mean?” Shouyo asks. He crouches down next to Asahi and starts pushing mulch around the flowers he’s planted.

“Gentle, Hinata!” Asahi yelps. “And it’s been a year since I was with anyone, you know. That way.”

“Anyone I know?” Shouyo asks.

Asahi stays quiet, plucking dead leaves off of a pansy. Shouyo leans over and puts his face close to Asahi’s, squinting.

“Why do you seem guilty?” he asks, making sure to keep anything except a soft curiosity out of his voice. 

Asahi’s face turns red anyway, which makes him look guiltier. “It was, ah, Suga?”

“What?” Shouyo sits back and blinks.

Asahi groans and takes his gloves off to put his hair in a tighter bun. “We just kissed. It was at a party and we were drinking and I was…lonely.”

“You kissed Suga!?” The thought would not process in Shouyo’s mind.

“It was one time!” Asahi exclaims around the hair tie dangling from his mouth.

“But it’s different when it’s with a friend, right?” Shouyo asks. “Because you see them all the time.”

“I mean, maybe? But I already knew that Suga doesn’t date, so I wasn’t expecting anything in the first place. And we talked about it after we were sober, so.” Asahi puts his gloves back on and gets back to work with more enthusiasm.

Shouyo helps him, and the two lapse back into a comfortable routine. The gears in Shouyo’s head keep turning and turning, and even though he knows Asahi will be embarrassed, he can’t help but bother him about it.

“So, is he a good kisser?”

Asahi tenses all over before slumping in defeat. “Yes, Hinata.”

“I tried to get him to kiss me once, but he said it would be like kissing a baby brother, so he wouldn’t.”

“I…don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

Shouyo bounces on the balls of his feet, still in a crouch. “Does he use a lot of tongue? Because I feel like he would.”

“You are a pervert.” Asahi sends him a dark look.

Shouyo just laughs.

 

A few days later, Shouyo’s dozing off in a booth of the coffee shop. He’d quickly grown bored of being alone at the apartment while Suga and Yamaguchi worked, so he’d come to bother them. Suga ended up promising to take him for a drink after their shift if Shouyo stayed quiet and out of the way.

Shouyo’s sitting in a nice patch of sunlight, and the warmth feels nice where it hits his skin. He’d managed to get perfectly comfortable by bringing a knee to his chest, foot on the bench, so that he could rest his elbow on his knee. His arm came up to pillow his head on the window. He’s in that weird in-between, where his body feels heavy and lazy, but his mind is sharp and observant, absorbing the sounds of patrons talking softly among themselves, the bright smell of milk being foamed, and the heavier one of coffee grinding.

“Hey."

If his body weren’t so relaxed, he would have startled. Instead, he feels a long breath leave his chest and he forces his eyes open. Shouyo lowers his arm and smiles up at Kageyama. He can feel his heart beating steadily against his ribs. “Hey.”

Kageyama clears his throat and sets a cup down in front of Shouyo. After blinking at it for a moment, he feels much more awake and looks curiously up from the offering.

“Suga said this is your favorite,” he says in lieu of an explanation. He tugs on the brim of his slouchy beanie and his intense gaze slides to the side.

“Thanks!” Shouyo pulls the cup closer. “Wanna sit?”

Kageyama seems to hesitate before sliding into the booth across from Shouyo. They sit in silence for a while, which makes Shouyo afraid that maybe this is getting awkward. Without thinking, he opens his mouth to speak.

“Haven’t seen you in the park recently.”

Kageyama’s ears turn red and he focuses outside the window. Shouyo wonders if that was the wrong thing to say, and for a moment he’s a little afraid of Kageyama’s answer.

“My coach said I was pushing too hard,” he grumbles. “I’ve had to really cut back on my personal routine to balance out what we do at practice.”

“That makes sense!” Shouyo grins. “You have to be ready for when they need you in a match, right?”

A beat. “I guess.”

“One time I tore a muscle in my leg during a match and having to sit out was the absolute worst. Suga tried to cheer me up, but he got to stay on the court the whole time, so he couldn’t really know how I felt.” Shouyo slurps his coffee happily. “But I healed pretty quickly, so all was well.”

“I want to stand on the court.”

Shouyo pauses at the intensity of the words, his gaze drawn up from his cup. Kageyama’s still looking out the window, but his expression is darker, more severe. There’s a small crease between his eyes and a little frown pinching the corners of his mouth.

“You will,” Shouyo says seriously.

Kageyama’s eyes close. “Yeah.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being hungry for it.” Shouyo sets his cup down as Kageyama’s eyes open to meet his gaze. “You may be a genius, but you still have to earn your place. So work hard and do your best. Make them see you for all you’re worth.”

Kageyama’s expression is unreadable, but his lips have parted slightly, releasing the tension in his mouth. They stare at each other long enough for Shouyo to feel embarrassed.

“Or something.” He grins and rubs the back of his head. “I mean, I don’t really know. I haven’t played at the college level, obviously, but being a short middle blocker was always kind of hard, until I showed them what I could do, you know?”

“What can you do?”

Shouyo’s hand slips from his neck. He grins at Kageyama’s curious tone. “I can jump.”

“Volleyball again?”

Kageyama jumps a little, but Shouyo just redirects his smile at the pair who have appeared next to them. Yamaguchi grins back, and Suga just rolls his eyes fondly.

“While you two have been chatting, we’ve closed up. Ready to head out?”

Shouyo practically flies out of the booth. “Sake time!”

“Would you like to come with us, Kageyama?” Suga’s gaze falls on the tall man as he scoots out of the booth.

“I, um, don’t want to impose—”

“You’re not,” Yamaguchi assures him. “But I need a drink after today, so let’s go!”

Shouyo hums happily as he follows Suga out the door and waits for him to lock up. Yamaguchi sticks close to Kageyama, offering him a kind smile. The four of them start walking with Suga leading the way.

“So has Hinata talked your ear off enough about volleyball for the day?” Yamaguchi asks.

Kageyama smiles slightly. “I could talk about volleyball all the time.”

“Oh, God, another one,” Suga groans. “As if the Jumping Bean isn’t enough.”

“Hey!” Shouyo shouts. He can feel his ears getting red. “That’s a horrible nickname. Don’t try to revive it.”

“Jumping Bean?”

Shouyo turns unhappily to Kageyama’s teasing tone. “I told you I can jump.”

“And he’s short,” Yamaguchi adds with a laugh.

“It really doesn’t do you justice, you’re right.” Suga sighs and shifts his gaze to Kageyama. “He’s got this innate athleticism bordering on genius. I’ve never seen anyone who can move so fast, or jump so high. But we never got to see his true potential.”

“God, Suga, brag about your son some more,” Yamaguchi teases.

“You make me sound so awesome, Suga!” Shouyo laughs, jumping on Suga’s back as they stumble into the bar.

They grab their drinks—sake for Suga, Yamaguchi, and Shouyo, and a beer for Kageyama—before cramming themselves into a secluded booth.

“I’m serious!” Suga says. He sighs wistfully. “With a better setter you would have been unstoppable.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shouyo feels Yamaguchi’s and Kageyama’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t care. He’s focused intently on Suga’s face, the surprise widening his hazel eyes. 

Suga laughs, though it sounds a little nervous. “I’m just saying that if you were partnered with someone that had faster reflexes, your quicks would have been monstrous.”

“You’re an awesome setter,” Shouyo barks. 

Suga’s eyes flick to Kayegama and back. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t be so mad.”

“I never had a team before that year, and you were patient and kind, and I stood proudly on the court, knowing you were supporting me. Now it sounds like you’re wishing I’d partnered with someone else.” Shouyo drops his gaze to the table. “Kenma was a good setter, but he wasn’t you. So don’t sound regretful, because that hurts and it pisses me off.”

A heavy silence falls on the table. Shouyo keeps his gaze down, but now he feels a little embarrassed. He can feel Kageyama shift on the bench next to him, and he wishes for a second that he wasn’t so emotional.

“I’m sorry, Shou.” Suga reaches across the table to ruffle his hair. “I’m not regretful.”

Shouyo nods and fiddles with his earring. He glances up at Kageyama’s flat expression, his cheeks turning a little pink.

“You’re kind of a hotheaded idiot, aren’t you?” Kageyama muses.

Shouyo squawks in protest, and Yamaguchi snort-laughs, which sets off a chain reaction at the table. Shouyo eventually scrubs tears off his face, his grin threatening to split his face.

“I guess I am,” he says.

“He totally is,” Suga giggles.

“Well at least I didn’t make out with Asahi!” Shouyo says.

Yamaguchi practically screeches. Suga’s mouth drops open and he turns a violent shade of red.

“Asahi told me at work!” Shouyo continues. “And he says you’re a good kisser and you use a lot of tongue.”

“I guess Daichi’s in for a good time,” Kageyama says absently.

Yamaguchi howls by this point, and Shouyo’s “Who’s Daichi?” goes unnoticed. Suga puts his arms on the table and buries his face in them with an exaggerated groan.

“I need more alcohol,” comes his voice, muffled by his jacket sleeves.

Shouyo sighs happily and slumps back against the booth. Kageyama’s knee bumps into his under the table, and he looks up to catch Kageyama looking at him. They both smile—Shouyo’s broad and Kageyama’s small—before looking away again.

There’s a creeping heat under Shouyo’s skin that has nothing to do with the booze and everything to do with the sharp jaw and warm blue eyes of the man next to him. Shouyo’s reminded of how he felt sitting in the sun earlier, except this time he’s being warmed from the inside out.

 

Hinata fits into Tobio’s life with alarming ease.

After the night at the bar, Tobio feels something shift inside him. He’d been amazed when Hinata had encouraged him to keep working hard for his position, but he’d been downright floored watching his instantaneous anger flare to life like a wildfire at the mere notion that Suga regretted being his partner.  


Tobio finds himself thinking about his own spikers, and at practice begins to be more vocal in his support of them. Until that night, he’d always thought support was an obvious thing on the court: _jump, and I’ll bring the ball to you._ Now he realizes it also has to do with how the spiker views their partnership on a personal level.

He knows the others see the change. Oikawa becomes more frigid, Iwaizumi more neutral, and Daichi more warm. His coach even gives him a slap on the back. Everything just feels more.

Hinata had also made Tobio promise to call him. He didn’t have the courage to reveal that he’d already had his number, and Suga arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. The next night, however, he does call Hinata, as promised.

Words have never come easy to Tobio, as evidenced by his lack of them on the court. He prefers to say things with actions rather than speech. But with Hinata, it is easy, and Tobio isn't sure if that’s because Hinata isn't afraid to talk uninterrupted, or that he asks a lot of questions, or that he makes Tobio feel relaxed. It's probably a combination of all three.

“I don’t even know what your major is,” Hinata complains that first call.

“It’s art.”

Hinata pauses. “Art?”

“Yeah.”

“You're an artist?”

Tobio stares at his dark ceiling, feeling embarrassed for some reason. “Kind of, I guess.”

“How can you be kind of an artist?” Hinata laughs, a bright sound in Tobio’s ear.

“I mean, I’m good at it, and I like it. But I’m a volleyball player,” he snaps. “That’s what I see myself as.”

Hinata sighs happily, unaffected by Tobio's lack of social grace. “I like that. I used to think that way, too. Being on a team is amazing, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Tobio agrees quietly. Hinata is helping him to realize how amazing it really is.

They hang out at the coffee shop a lot, before or after Hinata’s shifts and between Tobio’s classes. Sometimes they spend the entire time gushing about volleyball. Other times they talk about their friends or their families. Occasionally it’s as simple as Tobio studying quietly while Hinata naps against the window.

Daichi starts showing up pretty regularly to flirt with Suga. Tobio doesn’t really understand it: they’re both really into each other, but Suga continually refuses to give Daichi his number. One time Daichi suggests they go on a date, and Suga laughs loudly enough to draw attention to them, and promptly shoos Daichi away.

Daichi sits heavily in the booth next to Tobio, looking interestedly at Hinata. “Got any tips for me?”

“He doesn’t date.” Hinata fiddles with his earring, which Tobio now knows is a nervous habit. “Anyone. Ever.”

“Why?” Daichi leans in.

“That’s not really my place.” Hinata grins apologetically. “Maybe just keep trying?”

“Has that worked in the past?”

“No one's been brave enough to keep at it,” Hinata admits.

“Well, okay then.” Daichi nods as if that settles it. He has the same air about him as when he decides they're going to win a match in the first set.

Tobio likes to watch Daichi and Hinata interact. He’s never been one for friends, but when the first years had stepped foot on the court this season, Daichi had singled him out. Tobio wasn’t sure why, but Daichi seemed to have a special fondness for him, and it hadn’t taken Tobio long to reciprocate that fondness.

So it hits him in a funny way when one day at practice Daichi turns to him and says, “I really like Hinata. He’s a good guy.”

Tobio feels his eyes widen, and his fingers flex on a ball. “Yeah. He is.”

“I think he’s a really good guy for you,” Daichi says.

Iwaizumi slaps Tobio on the back, ignoring Oikawa’s badgering behind them to _get to work._ “Are you going to bring this guy around, or what?”

Tobio shrugs. He looks down at the ball in his hands, trying to breathe evenly. His chest suddenly feels very tight, and he realizes how much it means to him that Daichi likes Hinata. 

“We’re just friends,” he says.

Iwaizumi grunts in response, and Daichi gives him a small smile. They don’t bring it up again, but for Tobio, that was more than enough.

Slowly, Hinata invades his life in other ways. They start having a weekly movie night, sometimes at Tobio’s apartment and sometimes at Hinata’s. Tobio likes it best at Hinata’s, because occasionally Yamaguchi will join them, and it’s never as uncomfortable as when Kageyama’s roommate, Tsukishima, is lurking around, judging them with his stupid sneer. 

“Where did you even find him?” Hinata had whispered after one particularly bad encounter.

“The internet,” Tobio’d replied.

Hinata had giggled for hours after.

The more they see each other, the more Tobio finds himself thinking about Hinata when they’re not together. He thinks about all Hinata’s different smiles, when he uses each of them and how each makes Tobio feel a different way. He thinks about Hinata’s voice when he talks about his sister, and how it hold the same amount of awe and reverence as when he’s talking about an awesome spike. 

And he thinks a lot about Hinata’s body, though he tries not to. He’s still trying to get used to the intensity of his cravings for Hinata’s presence, and he can’t be bothered trying to sort out the physical side of that just yet.

Once, during a stupid American action film Hinata insists they watch, Tobio finds himself nodding off. The day had been long: morning practice, a full day of class, and then a particularly brutal evening practice. But Hinata was working the rest of the weekend, so Tobio’d agreed to come over. They’re shoulder to shoulder, sitting on the floor in front of Hinata’s living room couch, discarded pizza box down by their feet.

Tobio tries to stay awake, encouraged by Hinata’s running commentary, but eventually he finds himself slumping down, already half gone. He hears Hinata say something, but all he can say back is “Tired,” before he puts his cheek against Hinata’s thigh. It's the first time he's ever been brave enough to touch Hinata, but he doesn't think about that as he slips into a heavy unconsciousness.

He wakes a few hours later. There’s some dumb reality show on the television now, and he realizes pretty quickly that Hinata’s hand is in his hair. Tobio shifts, causing the hand to flex slightly, before he sits up.

Hinata’s head is resting back against the couch cushion, his face turned towards Tobio’s, his lips parted just slightly. Tobio’s chest suddenly feels tight, and his hands fist involuntarily. Hinata had been completely asleep, but as Tobio watches, the pale lashes laying against his freckles twitch, and those brilliant hazel eyes blink open to regard him.

For a moment, they just look at each other. Hinata’s mouth quirks into a small smile, and he lets out a long, satisfied-sounding breath out through his nose. “Hey,” he says, his voice all gravel and sleep and happiness.

“Hey.” Tobio swallows. “I know we haven’t, like, gone on any dates or whatever. But I think you should be my boyfriend.”

Hinata blinks, suddenly looking much more awake. “You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Tobio says. After a moment of silence, he adds, “If you want.”

Hinata laughs, which makes Tobio’s heart shiver. “Why?”

“Why what?”

Hinata’s face turns a little pink and he fiddles with his earring. “Why do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

“Because you’re more important than anyone else,” Tobio says.

He’s worried that Hinata won’t know what he meant by that, or that he’d have to explain himself. It was obvious in his head: there are probably a thousand reasons why he’d want Hinata to be his boyfriend, and all of those reasons put him over everyone else. But he isn’t sure he can say that out loud.

Hinata’s face is completely pink now, but he gives Tobio a broad smile. “You’re sweet. Of course I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Tobio nods and rubs the back of a fist over his eyes to block his expression. He’s pretty sure his face is bright red and he’s grinning like an idiot, but he’s never had tact so why he thought he would when it came to this seems dumb. But Hinata still said yes.

“Hey.” Hinata’s fingers wrap around his wrist, prying his hand away from his face. “Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you.”

Tobio forces himself to meet Hinata’s eyes. He’s kissed a bunch of people before, but Hinata’s words have his stomach clenching and his breath evaporating from his lunges. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hinata grins before knocking his forehead lightly against Tobio’s. “So can I?”

Tobio swallows. This close he can smell Hinata: something like heated earth and a little sweat. “Yeah.”

Hinata leans in mostly, but Tobio finds it within him to close the distance. Hinata’s lips are chapped, a little rough under Tobio’s, and Tobio can feel the short puffs of air from Hinata’s nose against his cheek.

They break away for a moment, but after staring at Hinata’s mouth, Tobio finds himself cupping Hinata’s jaw and slotting their mouths together again. Hinata makes a little noise in the back of his throat, pressing himself closer and grasping the front of Tobio’s shirt.

Tobio runs his tongue along Hinata’s bottom lip, and Hinata parts his lips, giving Tobio just enough access for the slick slide of tongues to shoot sensation all the way down Tobio’s spine.

Eventually Tobio breaks away, and by this point Hinata’s straddling his lap, hands fisted in Tobio’s hair, lips trailing fire down Tobio’s neck.  
“Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

Hinata hums against the juncture between Tobio’s neck and his shoulder, drawing a delicious shiver out of Tobio.

“Don’t you have to sleep?” Tobio’s a little embarrassed by how strained his voice sounds.

Hinata sits back, and Tobio bites back a growl at the look of molten desire in those wide, gleaming eyes. “When was the first time we saw each other?”

“You mean in the park?”  


Hinata nods.

Tobio thinks. “Two months ago, I guess.”

“Well I’ve been wanting to do this for two months,” Hinata says. He tugs on Tobio’s hair, forcing him to tilt his head back a little. “So shut up and kiss me.”

Tobio caves instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I'm pretty much doing this fic on the fly. I know the basic story arc, but I'm letting the characters guide me to where they want to be. I think the pacing gets a little better in the latter half of this chapter, but I'm gonna ask your forgiveness for the first half. I'll do better in the future!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kageyama Tobio realizes he's actually a shit boyfriend, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where the inspiration for Hinata came from: 
> 
> http://miyajimamizy.tumblr.com/post/133801653148/saw-0u0b-s-third-yrhinata-and-i-fell-hard 
> 
> (I suck at technology, you'll have to copy/paste).

Shouyo checks his phone, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet nervously. Tonight is their first date—their first real date. Shouyo’s kind of lacking in the romance department: he had a girlfriend once, but that was back in his second year of high school, and they were better at being friends than lovers. Everyone since then had been casual, so he hadn’t thought too much about what being a boyfriend might mean.

Kageyama had insisted that they go out to dinner together. Shouyo looked up the restaurant, but found he didn’t have the heart to tell Kageyama that it really wasn’t his scene: he’d much rather go to a little ramen house than some fancy place.

Shouyo checks his phone again: Kageyama’s ten minutes late now. He sighs and rubs the back of a fist against his eyes, trying not to feel self-conscious in his slacks and a borrowed button-down, courtesy of Yamaguchi. They’d agreed to meet at an outside seating area on campus, and Shouyo was sure that this was the place. He tilts his head back and resists the urge to pace.

Another ten minutes go by. Shouyo checks his phone for new messages, but there’s nothing. He decides to call Kageyama, but it sends him straight to voicemail. Shouyo tries not to be nervous. Kageyama wouldn’t stand him up on purpose, right? 

“Hinata?”

Shouyo whirls to blink at the voice. “Hey, Asahi!”

“Hey.” Asahi comes to a stop in front of him, regarding his outfit. “You’re going on your date tonight, I forgot.”

“Uh, yeah.” Shouyo checks his phone again. Still nothing.

“Hey, Asahi!”

Shouyo instinctively turns towards the familiar voice. Suga and Yamaguchi are trudging up the hill, gym bags slung across their shoulders. Asahi lifts a hand in greeting, and Shouyo groans inwardly: Suga is about to Get Involved.

“What are you still doing here, Hinata?” Suga asks once they’re close. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to that French place?”

“Ah.” Shouyo tugs on his earlobe, feeling out the stud. “I guess Kageyama is running late.”

Suga’s lips purse slightly. “Did you call him?”

“Yeah.” Shouyo notices Yamaguchi and Asahi share a look. “He didn’t pick up.”

“Try again?” Yamaguchi offers.

Shouyo does. Still to voicemail. “Maybe his practice is running late. You remember how that was.”

“Let’s pop over to the gym, then.” Suga grins in a way that terrifies Shouyo. “We’re all on our way to work out at the training center, and it’s on the way.”

A part of Shouyo thinks that he should stay here and wait patiently on a bench, but the other part of him really, really doesn’t want to be alone with his insecurities. He and Kageyama have only been together a few days. Maybe he changed his mind.

Yamaguchi gives Shouyo a reassuring slap on the back as they head off. Suga and Asahi lead them, as usual, and Shouyo lets his mind drift off as they walk. He keeps checking his phone, worried that he missed a call or text, but nothing comes through. 

It’s not an incredibly far walk to the gym, and before they reach the doors, the sounds of sneakers screeching across the floor hits Shouyo’s ears. The sound fills him with excitement and nostalgia and one overarching thought: _I want to play._

He pokes his head inside, Suga straining to see over top of him. Sure enough, some of the men’s volleyball team is tossing a ball around. Shouyo easily recognizes Daichi, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa are also there.

Oikawa is the first to notice them, his face splitting with that viciously sweet smile. “Chibi-chan!”

Kageyama, who had been mid-toss to Daichi, freezes up so hard that the ball ends up smacking the spiker in the face. Daichi collapses to the floor with a yelp, causing Suga to crack up. Yamaguchi and Asahi join them at the door, not wanting to miss out on anything exciting.

“Uh, hey!” Shouyo calls hesitantly.

“Hey, Hinata! What’re you guys doing here?” Iwaizumi calls, nothing but a pleased surprise in his rough voice.

“Kageyama is late for his date!” Yamaguchi shouts.

Shouyo winces. The players freeze. Kageyama’s face is totally pale. 

“You didn’t tell us its date night!” Oikawa’s voice holds far too much glee in Shouyo’s opinion. “How late is he?”

“Uh.” Shouyo rubs the back of his head and checks his phone again. “We’re not gonna make our reservations.”

Daichi slaps Kageyama on the back of the head. Oikawa barks a laugh, only for Iwazumi to replicate Daichi’s gesture on him.

Kageyama looks like he might actually vomit now. “I’m so sor—”

“Can we play?” Shouyo calls.

Again, everyone pauses. Suga groans. “Hinata.”

“I mean, you guys are right in the middle of it.” Shouyo turns to look at his friends. “And you guys were going to work out anyway. And we’re evenly matched! It’s like fate, right?”

Shouyo turns his pleading eyes on Suga, who only takes an instant wilt. Asahi is already slumped in defeat, and Yamaguchi smiles.

“I don’t really want to play, but I’ll keep score if you want,” Yamaguchi says. “You can borrow my work-out clothes, Hinata.”

Daichi ushers them to a room where they can change, and it doesn’t go over Shouyo’s head that Kageyama hasn’t spoken a word or moved or even _breathed_ since Shouyo interrupted his apology. He knows Kageyama is probably freaking out, but this turn of events actually has Shouyo feeling more grounded, at ease. And he can’t really pass up the opportunity for all his friends to interact with Kageyama and _his_ friends. This moment suddenly feels much more important to their budding relationship than any weird fancy date ever could.

When they step back out on the court, Oikawa grabs Yamaguchi and saunters off with him. “I’ll sit out with Freckles-kun!” he chirps.

Iwaizumi shoots him a suspicious look, his hands settling on his hips. “Is your knee bothering you?”

Oikawa waves him off with a smile. “Don’t worry so much, Iwa-chan. You’ve already been cursed with that face, and you can’t afford to get wrinkles now.”

Oikawa howls as a volleyball pegs him square in the back.

“Three on three, then!” Daichi claps his hands. “Hey, Suga, how are you?”

Shouyo watches Suga pull Asahi over to introduce him, and he isn’t surprised by the sound of a throat clearing next to him. When he looks up, Kageyama’s eyes are more intense than usual, his mouth pulled into a solid, thin line. 

“Stop that.” Shouyo reaches out and flicks the crease between Kageyama’s eyebrows.

His eyes widen in response, his face losing some tension to surprise. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Shouyo grins. “Don’t worry about it. This is going to be fun, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but.” Kageyama’s eyes slide to the side, and he rubs his mouth aggressively.

“I’m a pretty straightforward guy, Kageyama,” Shouyo says. He tilts forward so that he’s back in Kageyama’s line of vision, giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “If I were mad, I would tell you, okay?”

Kageyama nods and drops his hand. “How long did you wait?”

“Oh, only twenty minutes or so.”

Kageyama groans and buries his face in his hands, causing Shouyo to laugh.

 

Tobio feels like throwing himself off a bridge.

He watches Hinata and his friends warm up, absently rolling a ball around in his hands. Hinata hadn’t seemed all that angry: in fact, he hadn’t seemed angry at all. But Tobio had been the one to push for this date, had built it up into something special, and then stood him up like a total prick.

“He seems fine,” Daichi murmurs next to him.

Tobio jumps a little. “I guess.”

“Just don’t screw up again.” Daichi’s voice is sterner this time, and the hand he puts on Tobio’s shoulder feels a little too heavy.

“Yeah.” Tobio squeezes the ball until his knuckles turn white.

Iwaizumi appears next to them. “So, Sugawara?” 

“Yeah.” Daichi grins at him.

“Nice.”

“Thank you, I’m trying.”

Tobio lets his eyes drop to the ball, rolling it gently between his palms. Asking Hinata to be his boyfriend had been totally impulsive: Tobio is now realizing that even though he knows a lot about Hianta, he barely knows him at all. He would never have guessed that Hinata would have reacted so casually to being forgotten about. Tobio curses himself silently. Why wasn’t Hinata angry with him? God, if he were Hinata, he’d probably just leave already. Tobio is a shit boyfriend.

“Are we ready?”

Tobio’s eyes fix on Hinata, who’s giving a wide grin and has both his thumbs up and aimed at them.

“We won’t go easy,” Iwaizumi warns.

“Duh!” Hinata cackles and sinks down into the basic position. “You guys serve first.”

Suga and Asahi copy Hinata’s form on either side of him, looking intent and amused. Daichi slaps Kageyama on the back and pushes him toward the end line.  


Kageyama takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. After a moment of dark calmness, he feels a strength growing in his core. He opens his eyes again when he feels centered, and without delay he tosses the ball in the air.

Serving hasn’t always come second nature to him, but after watching Oikawa’s ridiculously terrifying jump serve, he’s gotten better. He feels his feet move a few steps and then leave the court before he can even register the movement. The shock that runs down his arm as his hand connects with the ball is delicious, but feels too much. The ball hits the court on the other side just as his feet hit the ground.

There’s a moment of shocked silence from the other side before Oikawa scoffs. “Too far, Tobio-chan! It’s out.”

He nods. “Yeah.” He got a little too excited.

“That was _awesome!_ ” Hinata crows, grabbing at Suga. “Did you see that?”

Suga laughs and shakes Hinata off. “You’re not supposed to get so excited about the other team.”

“Yeah but did you _see._ ”

“We all did.” Suga rolls his eyes, but Tobio can see the fondness in the gesture.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that,” Hinata demands breathlessly when Tobio approaches the net.

“You should ask Oikawa,” Tobio grumbles. “He’s better than me.”

Asahi’s serve is powerful, but Daichi still manages to receive it. Tobio easily sets to Iwaizumi, who spikes it to a place no one should have been, but Hinata appears under it as if by some magic and receives it.

Tobio blinks as the ball sails back towards them, setting to Daichi, only to be blocked by Asahi. Iwaizumi saves the shot, and Kageyama sends it back over the net. He didn’t know what playing against these three would be like, but he’s more than a little irritated that they haven’t managed to score yet.

They go back and forth for a little while, and just when it seems like they might be wearing the other side down, Tobio notes the way Suga’s eyes shift, the subtle body language that says he’s decided: he will be tossing to Asahi next. 

The others see it, too. They all move towards Asahi, bodies tensing as one in preparation for the jump.

“SUGA.”

Tobio feels the force of that shout all the way to his feet. Suga moves on instinct, setting towards the storm that is Hinata. He watches in awe as his boyfriend’s small frame shoots off the ground and continues to climb almost unnaturally, as if he were being lifted by wings. The velocity of his spike is incredible, and even though Iwaizumi has recovered enough to try and block it, the volleyball rebounds off the floor and shoot back towards the wall behind them uninterrupted.  


Suga and Hinata cry out as one unit, and Asahi looks slightly horrified as Hinata jumps on him, attempting to climb his body like a tree.

“What the hell,” Daichi breathes.

“Yeah,” Tobio says softly.

“The Jumping Bean appears!” Yamaguchi chuckles, which makes Oikawa dissolve into laughter.

“Don’t call me that!” Hinata points accusingly at his roommate. 

“Think it was a fluke?” Iwaizumi asks, wiping a hand across his face without taking his eyes off Hinata.

“I think we should play more seriously,” Tobio responds.

Daichi makes a noise of affirmation, but his eyes are on the setter across the net, who’s currently prying Hinata off of Asahi. Tobio thinks about commenting on it, but decides not. He doesn’t want Daichi to call him out on how much he’s looking at Hinata’s legs anyway.

 

They lose, of course. But Shouyo’s laying on his back on the court, happy grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, breath huffing through his teeth in short breaths. Kageyama’s face appears above his.

“You play well,” he says seriously.

Shouyo gives him a thumbs up and swipes at his face. “Told you I can jump.”

Kageyama nods, and his intense gaze stays on Shouyo’s expression. Suga’s face appears on the other side of Shouyo, but he’s looking at Kageyama.

“You should toss for Shou sometime, Kageyama-kun,” he says brightly.

“Now?” Shouyo sits up so fast his head spins, but his grin only gets wider.

“Not now!” Suga bends over and ruffles Shouyo’s hair. “Now we go for food!”

“Ramen!?”

Suga laughs. “Well, we should ask—”

Shouyo turns wide eyes to Kageyama. “Ramen?” he asks in the most hopeful voice he can muster.

Kageyama’s eyes widen. He nods slightly.

“Yes!” 

Shouyo shoots to his feet and slaps his hands against Suga’s, which are already waiting. He turns and sprints towards Asahi, who’s holding his hands up, even if he looks terrified. Shouyo slaps his hands, too.

“Ramen!” Shouyo crows.

“Ramen,” Asahi replies weakly.

“God, to have that energy.” Daichi sighs.

Shouyo turns to him and laughs when Daichi raises his hands with a smile. They slap palms, and Suga drapes his body over Shouyo’s, making them stagger slightly.

“I’m so hungry, Sawamura-san,” Suga complains. “If we don’t go eat soon, I might faint.”

Daichi laughs and turns to ask Iwaizumi along. Suga turns his face into Shouyo’s neck, and for a moment, Shouyo swears he can feel him grinning. But when he straightens and releases Shouyo, his regular charming smile is on his face, eyes pointedly looking anywhere but Daichi.

Shouyo trots over to where Yamaguchi and Oikawa are lounging. “Yama-chan, Oikawa-san, ramen?”

Yamaguchi grins and nods. He and Shouyo high-five excitedly.

“Sure, chibi-chan!” Oikawa smiles at him, and Shouyo thinks it might be for real this time. He even lifts his hands so that Shouyo can bounce his palms off them. “But only if Iwa-chan pays for me~”

“Only if you agree to actually clean the bathroom this week,” Iwaizumi says. 

He crosses his arms over his chest so that his arm muscles stick out. Shouyo thinks it’s intimidating, especially since he has a glare accompanying it, but Oikawa just whines. Iwaizumi doesn’t relent, and eventually Oikawa sighs dramatically and gives in.

Shouyo bounces back to Kageyama, who looks at him in bewilderment as Shouyo lifts his hands up. There’s a long pause, and then Kageyama raises his hands hesitantly.

Shouyo smacks his hands against Kageyama’s, and he keeps them there. He feels himself leaning in slightly, his head tiling back so he can still see Kageyama’s face. 

“I like your friends,” he says.

“Y-yeah.” Kageyama is giving him that wide-eyed look again. It makes Shouyo want to kiss his face off. 

“What, I don’t get a high-five?”

Shouyo pulls away from Kageyama to look at Iwazumi’s amused expression. He shoots over and jumps before he smacks their hands together. They stumble back, and Iwazumi laughs before shoving his knuckles in Shouyo’s hair and rubbing.

 

They’re halfway through a quietly good-natured meal when Hinata chokes on his food.

Tobio turns and smacks him once on the back before he’s satisfied that Hinata’s red-faced from embarrassment rather than lack of oxygen. Neither Asahi, Yamaguchi, nor Suga seem surprised. Suga even has an eyebrow raised.

“W-we forgot Ukai-san’s birthday!” Hinata splutters.

Suga groans. “Hinata.”

“He was at Asahi’s party!” Hinata continues. “We should do something!”

Asahi clears his throat. “When was it?”

“The fifth.”

Suga and Yamaguchi exchange a glance. “Hinata, today’s the twenty-fifth.”

“So?” Hinata shifts so that his leg is now bouncing against Tobio’s. “Can we do a get-together at the shop this Friday after you close?”

“I’ll have to talk to Takeda-san,” Suga says eventually. “So don’t tell anyone yet.”

“Take-chan will say yes, right, Yama?” Hinata has that puppy-dog face on again, and Tobio feels like his heart will obstruct his airway as it expands.

“All we can do is ask, Hinata,” Yamaguchi says carefully.

Hinata seems satisfied with this answer and goes back to stuffing his face.

"Ukai-san is our boss," Tobio hears Asahi murmur to the others.

Tobio spends a long moment just looking at him, the dark stud in his right ear, the sharp line of his jaw. The bouncy mess of the hair on top of his head, and the darker orange where it’s cut closest to his scalp. Tobio remembers the feel of it tickling his palms, and immediately switches away from those thoughts.

As he stares down at his half-eaten meal, he wonders if he’s ever wanted someone as intensely as he wants Hinata. It’s a stupid question: the only feeling that even comes close to this is when he’s in the air, volleyball just leaving his hands, knowing he’s made the perfect toss.

For the first time ever, he really, really wants to go back to his place and draw something. He wonders if Hinata’s nervous energy is starting to affect him.

“Eat, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi commands around a mouthful of noodles.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says.

Hinata nudges his knee against Tobio’s thigh, and Tobio tries really hard not to smile.

 

Shouyo gets the approval for Ukai’s birthday, and scrambles together people from the neighborhood volleyball association, where Ukai plays with Suga and Shouyo, as well as some more of Asahi and Shouyo’s coworkers. Takeda agrees to make a cake, and as Friday evening rolls around, Shouyo finds himself aggressively dragging Ukai towards the coffee house.

“Can’t we go to the bar instead?” Ukai complains.

“You’ll like this place!” Shouyo whines. “Just trust me, Ukai-kun!”

Ukai grumbles and lights a cigarette. Shouyo deems it safe to release him, and they walk amicably together down the lamp-lit street.

“Asahi told me that you’re seeing someone,” Ukai says on an exhale.

“Uh, yeah! Kageyama Tobio. He’s on the men’s volleyball team,” Shouyo says.

Ukai snorts. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

“What’s what supposed to mean?” Shouyo asks. He looks up into his boss’ face, relaxing as he sees the rakish grin there.

“It means that you live and breathe volleyball, you fanboy.”

The coffee shop is now in sight. Shouyo had been worried about acting natural, but Ukai was making it easy for him.

“I am not a fanboy! I’m a player,” he pretends to seethe.

“Yeah, on a neighborhood team with a bunch of old geezers.” Ukai barks a laugh.

“Well, I wouldn’t call you an old geezer yet.” Hinata grins.

Ukai stamps out his cigarette and follows Shouyo inside. Everybody shouts as they enter, and Shouyo knows he’s done a good job at distracting him, because Ukai jumps and gapes and then looks pissed.

He grabs Shouyo’s shirt collar. “Hey, what is this?”

“Happy belated birthday, Ukai-san!” Shouyo laughs, his feet barely on the ground.

Ukai sighs and drops Shouyo back to earth. “Twenty-nine is nothing to celebrate.”

“Wait until you hit thirty-two.” Takeda appears beside Shouyo and bows slightly. “Happy belated birthday, Ukai-san. Welcome to the Cat and Crow.”

Ukai looks surprised and then uncomfortable. “Um, thanks.”

“This is Takeda-san,” Shouyo explains. “He’s the owner.”

“Ah, well, thanks, Takeda-san, for letting the kids set this up.” He shoves a hand in his hair like he doesn’t know what else to do with it.

“No trouble at all. Anything for Shouyo-kun, right?”

Shouyo beams and then smothers the older man in a hug. “Thanks, Take-chan!”

Shouyo leaves them in a rush, prowling over to where Suga and Kageyama are planted. He throws his arms around Kageyama, squeezing his neck happily. Kageyama makes a strangled sort of noise.

“This is nice,” Shouyo whispers before pulling back.

Kageyama’s face is red, and his hands have settled on Shouyo’s sides, right over his ribs. “You’re the one who set this up, dumbass, what makes you think it wouldn’t be nice?”

Shouyo laughs and steps out of Kageyama’s reach. He notices Suga watching him with a wistful sort of smile, and Shouyo aims a curious gaze at him.

“I’m going to go see if Takeda-san needs me,” Suga says.

Shouyo watches him go before collapsing into a chair. Everyone seems to be having a nice time, and the guys from their volleyball team are harassing Ukai just enough to be friendly. Shouyo hums happily before Kageyama clears his throat.

“I’m sorry that I stood you up on Monday,” Kageyama says.

Shouyo shoots him an irritated glance. “We’ve talked about this, like, a hundred times.”

“I know.” Kageyama fiddles with his bangs. “But I want to make it up to you.”

“How?” Shouyo instantly feels himself brightening with interest.

“Want to go to a movie next Saturday? I checked your schedule and you’re off then. And I don’t have practice.”

“Sure!” Shouyo leans over and rests his cheek on Kageyama’s knee, closing his eyes. “That sounds really nice.”

After a moment, Kageyama’s hand finds its way into Shouyo’s hair, and Shouyo sighs happily. He’d been hoping for that to happen. Kageyama still seems really reluctant to touch him, but sometimes if Shouyo approaches him just the right way, he’ll only sense a little hesitation from his broody boyfriend.

“Kageyama?”

“Yeah.”

“I really like being your boyfriend.”

Kageyama’s hand flexes in Shouyo’s hair, but other than that, there’s no response. Shouyo sits up a little to see Kageyama hiding his face behind his hand. Shouyo thinks he can detect a smile behind that closed fist.

“Don’t say embarrassing things.” Kageyama shoves Shouyo’s head back down. “Dumbass.”

“That’s not embarrassing!” Shouyo complains.

Kageyama’s hand eases him his hair. “I…feel the same.”

Shouyo sits up and grins happily at Kageyama’s red face. “Cake?”

“Yeah.” 

 

Shouyo has a lot of fun on their date. The movie is just okay, and they spend the majority of it shoving popcorn down each other’s shirts and snickering at the cheesy acting. By the time they get to the restaurant, Shouyo’s bouncing on his feet, feeling almost like he could fly if he tried.

“Why’re you so jumpy?” Kageyama grumbles, putting a firm hand on Shouyo’s shoulder.

“I’m happy!” Shouyo responds.

Kageyama’s mouth works as they sit down. Shouyo looks over the menu, trying to figure out what to eat before he’s salivated all over the place.

He sneaks a glance at Kageyama, who looks away quickly. Shouyo shifts his foot forward under the table until his shoe bumps against Kageyama’s. Kageyama makes no outward sign of acknowledgment, but Shouyo feels a pressure on top of his toes.

“School going well?” Shouyo asks.

“Hmm. Yeah.” Kageyama rubs his eyes. “I have a math test this week I’m trying to avoid thinking about.”

Shouyo nods sympathetically. “How’s practice?”

“Oikawa is an ass.” Kageyama lifts his gaze from the menu. He launches into an animated tangent about how he keeps trying to get Oikawa to teach him how to serve better, but he won’t.

Shouyo’s beginning to learn how to talk to Kageyama. Kageyama’s incredibly expressive: he has 400 different glares, each with their own meaning, he blushes easily, he’s quick to anger or embarrassment, and (very) occasionally he smiles so widely that a dimple appears in his left cheek.

But he doesn’t say a lot. Shouyo doesn’t quite understand that: he’s always talking. But he’s found that when he asks questions, Kageyama always, always answers them. Sometimes more in depth than others: Shouyo just keeps asking until he hits on a good question.

Their meal ends quickly: they end up racing to see who can finish first. They trudge back out into the warm air, stomachs too full to be comfortable.  


Shouyo really wants to reach out and take Kageyama’s hand, but he already knows that Kageyama gets really weird about couple-stuff in public. But Shouyo’s a naturally touchy person, and his desire to touch Kageyama is growing by the minute—he can feel is tingling in his palms, wondering what Kageyama’s smooth skin would feel like under his hands. 

He looks up at Kageyama’s face, lit by moonlight and street lamps, the curve of his cheek, the straight line of his nose. They’ve been together two weeks now, and all they’ve done is kiss. They’ve never really talked about sexual stuff, but Shouyo reckons he can’t be the only one antsy for some quality alone time.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Shouyo says suddenly.

Kageyama makes it a few steps before he stops and turns back to squint at Shouyo. “What?”

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Shouyo asks.

There’s a tense moment, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like there’s enough air in the world. Shouyo watches Kageyama’s eyes widen, his mouth pinch in a way that Shouyo’s come to recognize as surprise.

“Um,” he says.

Shouyo scratches the back of his head. “I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I just have that test to study for,” Kageyama interrupts brusquely. “So not tonight.”

“R-right.” Shouyo’s hand falls back down to his side, but curls and uncurls nervously. He feels like he’s just done something wrong.

There’s another tense moment, and Shouyo feels something like shame crawl under his skin. His eyes slide away from Kageyama without his permission, though he does his best to keep his disappointment under wraps.

Kageyama lifts his hand and scrubs at his mouth. After another quiet moment, he steps forward and slides his fingers along Shouyo’s jaw.

“Hey,” he mumbles.

Shouyo looks up at him, and they lock eyes. Shouyo’s heart picks up, and he swallows under Kageyama’s intense sea-blue stare. He knows he looks surprised, but he hadn’t even thought that Kageyama would hold his hand in public and oh, God, his cologne smells really nice, like dark and heavy and maybe a hint of—  


Kageyama leans in and captures Shouyo’s lips with his own. There’s a gentle slide of skin on skin, before Shouyo sighs, moving his mouth against Kageyama. They pick up a rhythm that feels so natural Shouyo could cry, not stumbling in the slightest when Kageyama bites his bottom lip and then drags his tongue across the indents.

Shouyo’s shaking and breathless, and his jeans feel uncomfortably tight by the time they break apart. Kageyama presses a gentle kiss to the round of Shouyo’s cheek before pulling back. Shouyo stares up at him as he drags a thumb across the wetness on Shouyo’s mouth.

“Just…not tonight,” Kageyama says finally.

Shouyo nods and draws in a shaky breath. “You’re kind of an ass, though.”

Kageyama’s eyebrows come together in an expression that looks almost painful.

“For making me go home,” Shouyo explains. “Like this.”

Kageyama drops his hands and grins wide enough for Shouyo to see his dimple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I won't end every chapter on a make-out scene, but for some reason I'm weak to the sexual-tension cliffhanger. 
> 
> http://positivecomet.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kageyama tries to outdrink Hinata and fails miserably, and the oddball duo think the way their roommates are behaving is a little strange.

Tobio rockets out of his dream in a hurricane of pleasure. He’s biting into the pillow as his body squirms against the sheets, hips jerking erratically, breath coming harsh through his nose. After a few long seconds of aftershocks, he’s able to relax enough to push himself over onto his back.

He releases a shaky breath from his mouth, dragging air in through his nose right after. For a moment he does nothing but remember the imagined sounds of Hinata’s voice, the way his pale, freckled skin felt against Tobio’s own. 

He opens his eyes and reaches for the notebook perched on his bedside table. He knows he should clean up, or change at least, the evidence of his orgasm already sticky and cooling on the inside of his boxers.

A well-worn pencil slides out from the pages, and he flips through the book until he comes to a clean page. He has sketch out the hazy images now. They’re already fading from his memory.

 

There are two types of people, Tobio decides: Oikawas and Hinatas.

Oikawa knows he’s attractive. It’s evidenced in the way he styles his hair, the self-aggrandizing smirk he wears, and not to mention the sheer amount of fangirls that follow him around. It’s in the way he flicks his hair off his forehead, a move so perfect it looks choreographed. And it’s in the way he holds his shoulders high, as if all the movement in his body comes right from his chest.

And then there’s Hianta. It’s not that Hinata dresses poorly, or doesn’t maintain his appearance: in fact, he pays special attention to which earring he wears when, and he has a different color t-shirt for every occasion. His jeans, a constant frustration for Tobio, hang low off his hips, tipping slightly over the curve of his ass and maintaining no other shape. But they sit in such a way that there’s always the chance Tobio might catch the flash of his boxer’s waistband, or the dimples on the small of his back, situated on either side of his spine. Hinata’s beauty is only heightened by his lack of self-awareness, and when he moves, it’s always from his hips, his shoulders prone to slumping a little as he walks.

Tobio quietly begins to place everyone else in these categories: Iwaizumi and Daichi are definitely Hinatas, and Suga and Yamaguchi are Oikawas, though they don’t flaunt it as obviously. At first Yamaguchi appeared to be a Hinata, but once Tobio watched him look up through thick, dark eyelashes and smile coyly at a customer, and Tobio knew he’d misjudged.

Asahi is a totally different animal—maybe he has his own category. He seems to know on some level how attractive he is (he keeps that bad-boy appearance after all), but he doesn’t seem to actually believe it. It appears to Tobio that the majority of Asahi and Suga’s friendship is based on Suga trying to get Asahi to stand tall and proud.

Of course, none of this actually helps Tobio’s problem, which is that he wants Hinata too much. His sexual fantasies are spilling out of his dreams, and instead of being contained in his secret sketch pad, they’re permeating his thoughts during the daytime. During volleyball, even. 

He mulls it over as he watches Oikawa’s jump serve at practice one evening. They’re all exhausted, so quiet that there’s only the sound of heavy breaths, shoes squeaking against the floor, and the smack of serves against hands. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Tobio feels comfortable enough to let his mind wander a little.  
He’s felt attraction before, sure. He’s had sex with numerous partners, none of them romantic, and they’d all been okay experiences. Top or bottom: he doesn’t really have a preference. 

But there is a hunger building like rage inside the pit of his stomach. Sometimes during movie night, when Hinata would fall asleep and tip his head back against the couch, Tobio would ache with the desire to mark the pale, delicate skin of Hinata’s throat, to bite and scratch and suck at the freckles dusted over his body, to hear him beg Tobio to fuck him.

It’s horrifying. Tobio had never been violent towards any of his partners, and these urges feel violent. Like an impending storm bent on destruction. He cares about Hinata a lot, more than he’s ever cared about anyone else before, including family—not that that was much of a competition. Why would he ever feel the need to hurt someone he feels so strongly towards? It makes him feel sick and ashamed. And afraid.

“Kageyama?”

Tobio swivels slightly to meet Iwaizumi’s frown. “Yes?”

“You okay?”

“Of course.”

The two men lock eyes, and Tobio feels a similar frown settle over his features. He can tell that Iwaizumi is analyzing him, trying to figure something out, but Tobio isn’t sure what.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

Iwaizumi blinks, his expression clearing. “No. You just seem really distracted lately.”

“Oh.” Tobio curses inwardly and can feel his face heating up. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Iwaizumi slaps his back. “But if something’s wrong, you can tell us, you know?”

He really doesn’t want his senpai to know about his disgusting sexual cravings. But he is kind of touched by Iwaizumi’s concern. “Sure.”

 

He’s walking with some of the volleyball players through campus the next day when Daichi spots a familiar orange sunbeam. He elbows Tobio in the ribs, and steers the group towards the spot where Hinata’s planted, staring intently at a hedgerow.

“Hey, Hinata!”

Hinata turns and squints at them, an excited grin quickly spreading over his features. He’s wearing a lightweight polo and dark wash jeans, and he’s pulling a pair of thick gloves off his hands as he comes to greet them.

“Hello!” he says, eyes lingering on Tobio’s face. “Have you come to appreciate my hedge-clipping skills? Asahi’s been teaching me.”

“Oohh, chibi-chan is good with his hands, To-bi-o-chan!” Oikawa clicks his tongue and hangs his weight on Tobio’s shoulders. “Lucky you.”

Tobio shoots him a dark look, and Hinata grows a little pink, his smile faltering a bit. Iwaizumi sees it and punches Oikawa a little harder than necessary.

“Are you coming to the party, Hinata?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Party?” Hinata looks a little nervously at Tobio.

Tobio sighs. He'd really, really been hoping to avoid this. “I didn’t invite him because I’m not gonna go.”

“What?” Oikawa frowns and turns to him. “It’s a team thing! You have to go.”

“I don’t.” Tobio checks his watch to avoid focusing on the way sweat is rolling down Hinata’s neck.

“You went in the fall!” 

“And I hated it.” He was an awkward person naturally, and alcohol did nothing to help him become more friendly. It just made his head pound uncomfortably.

“But…but it’s different, this time!” Oikawa plants himself firmly behind Hinata and pushes him forward a step. “You have a boyfriend now, Tobio, and you should bring him out to meet the team.”

Tobio frowns. “Why should—” 

“All you two ever do is watch TV by yourselves. It’s boring—you’re a boring boyfriend, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa’s glare intensifies, and Tobio finds himself wilting. Is that true? Does Hinata think he’s boring?

“It’s not a big deal.” Hinata scratches the back of his head, his grin a little too wide.

Oikawa tchs.

“We can go if you want,” Tobio says. “It’s fine. Just think about it and let me know? It’s this Saturday.”

“Y-yeah.”

Tobio checks his watch again. “Class starts soon. Are we still on for dinner?”

“Yeah, I just have to shower after my shift.”

They nod, and Tobio starts pushing Oikawa in the opposite direction as Hinata. He waits until the group steps a few paces away before he turns and sprints back. Hinata squawks, surprised, before Tobio wraps Hinata up in his arms and kisses the corner of his mouth because holy shit why is it so hard to walk away from a person you are going to see in just a few hours.

“Your hedge looks nice,” he says awkwardly, stepping back.

Hinata’s smile is so bright that Tobio resists the urge to look away. “Thanks!”

Iwaizumi hoots at him as he catches up to their group, making his face color bright red. “I didn’t know you were so lovey-dovey, Kageyama,” he teases.

“’M not,” Tobio says. 

“Maybe a little,” Daichi says.

He hides a smile behind his fist. “Yeah. Maybe a little.”

 

“Just pick one, Hinata, they’re all basically the same thing.”

Shouyo spins and manages a panicked glare at Yamaguchi. “I’m meeting the team tonight. I want to look nice!”

“The dark green looks good with your hair,” Yamaguchi offers, sagging against the doorframe of Shouyo’s room.

Shouyo eyes him. “You got a date tonight?”

Yamaguchi laughs, but Shouyo notices that his gaze slides to the side. “Why would you say that?”

“You have all your earrings in, and you got a haircut.”

His hair is shorter, more layered, though he has the top section pulled back in a small, spiky ponytail. Yamaguchi sticks his tongue out, and his tongue ring flashes in the light. “We’re not at work, so I don’t have to take out my piercings.”

“Takeda doesn’t care about your piercings. You just like to put on a mask for people.” Shouyo sighs and tugs the dark green shirt over his head.

“Yes, well, I put Work-Tadeshi in a drawer for tonight,” Yamaguchi says. “And it’s just a hookup. Nothing fancy.”

“Should I call before I come home?”

“I don’t bring anyone home, you know that.”

Shouyo raises an eyebrow at his friend, running his fingers over his head. “But you got a haircut, and you’re wearing your expensive jeans that make your ass look like it’s carved from marble. Will you please put product in my hair?”

Yamaguchi grins, and Shouyo follows him into the bathroom. He hums as he drags his fingers through Shouyo’s bright locks, biting his lip a little as he concentrates. Shouyo studies himself in the mirror as Yamaguchi washes the extra gel from his hands.

“Thanks, Yama!”

Yamaguchi bumps Shouyo with his hip and winks at him. “You look good, Shou. Kageyama won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

Shouyo chuckles, though his chest suddenly feels tight. “That’s the plan, anyway.”

Yamaguchi laughs and disappears into his own room. Shouyo grabs his phone and his wallet, shrugging into his leather jacket. Not long after, there’s a knock on the front door, and he shouts a “Good luck!” to Yamaguchi before he tugs the door open.

Kageyama’s wearing his signature v-neck and skinnies, both dark blue, but the pair of high top vans on his feet look brand new, patterned with vibrant Hawaiian flowers. Shouyo grins and closes the door firmly, stepping into Kageyama’s space.

“I love your shoes,” he says.

Kageyama’s face turns pink, and he seems flustered, but he doesn’t step back. “Uh, thanks. I have a pair of vans for, like, every occasion. Like you and your shirts.”

Shouyo laughs. “Yeah, I guess.” 

He smiles as Kageyama takes his hand and tugs him down the hall. He’s still trying to figure Kageyama out—he really only seems comfortable when he’s initiating their touches, even though he doesn’t ever seem hesitant or embarrassed when he does. But when Shouyo makes any kind of move, he turns pink and dodges him. Shouyo thinks about Yamaguchi’s remark—would Kageyama be different after a few drinks?

“Why are you quiet?”

Shouyo snaps out of his thoughts and sneaks a glance at Kageyama. “Just kind of nervous to meet your friends, I guess.” It’s not untrue.

Kageyama grunts. “Don’t be. They’re nothing special.”

Shouyo laughs and bumps his shoulder into Kageyama’s, earning him a small smile.

The party is located just a few blocks away from the café, so it doesn’t take much time for them to get there. It’s already packed with people, and Kageyama’s fingers tighten on his own as they push through the crowd to the alcohol. 

“Kageyama! Hinata!”

Drawn to the sound, Shouyo pushes past Kageyama to see Iwaizumi and Oikawa grinning at them, raising shot glasses.

“Tequila?” Shouyo asks as they settle on the other side of the counter.

“Oohh, chibi-chan likes the good stuff!” Oikawa slurs, though his eyes are bright and happy. He starts rooting around for more shot glasses amidst the mess of alcohol bottles. 

“If you do a shot with me, that mean we’re officially friends,” Shouyo warns. “You won’t be able to get away from me then, Oikawa, and I’ll force you to teach me how to properly serve.”

“What, we aren’t friends already?” Oikawa pouts.

Iwaizumi snorts, pouring them shots and passing them over. “Who would want to be friends with you, Trashkawa?”

Kageyama grins and raises his shot glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Oikawa howls as Iwaizumi and Kageyama clink glasses and take the shots together. Shouyo bumps his against Oikawa, giving him a bright grin.

“To being friends,” he says.

Oikawa blinks at him, expression suddenly flat and unreadable, before he gives Shouyo a small smile. “To being friends.”

 

Tobio stumbles out of the bathroom, not liking the way the hallway tilts in his gaze. He throws a hand against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Well, fuck.”

He honestly has no idea how this happened. They were taking shots with Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and then Daichi showed up with Suga in tow, which sent Hinata into a crazy weird drinking overdrive. He and Suga were basically pouring alcohol straight down each other’s throats, and Tobio—trying to keep up because he won’t be outdone by anyone, dammit, not even his adorably enthusiastic boyfriend—but he went from zero to fucking trashed in about five heartbeats.

“Yo, you okay?”

Tobio opens his eyes and looks down at a curiously small boy. Absently, he thinks that this guy might even be shorter than Hinata, but his hair is totally different. Black with a little blonde at the front. Where is his sunbeam, anyway?

“’M fine,” he says, belatedly. “Just drunk.”

“Yeah, I see that.” The guy grins and puts his fists on his hips. “You here with that Hinata kid?”

Tobio hums. He feels like maybe he’s swaying a little on his feet. “He’s my boyfriend.”

The guy whistles. “Good going, man. He’s a lot of fun. I bet he’s really good in bed, from the way he dances. Jesus.”

Tobio feels his face scrunch. Is Hinata dancing? With who?

He pushes past the guy and makes his way back to the kitchen. Daichi and Iwaizumi are arm wrestling, though Daichi’s face is far too red for him to be winning. Tobio moves forward and tugs on the hem of Oikawa’s shirt.

“Where’s Hinata?” Tobio asks, in what he hopes is a quiet voice over the thudding of electro-pop.

“He and Suga went to dance.” Oikawa hums and throws his arms around Tobio’s neck, forcing Tobio to move back a step. “He’s a good guy, Tobio. If you’re not nice to him, I’ll have to hurt you, okay?”

Tobio grunts and tries to squirm away from Oikawa. “Let go, I want to find Hinata.”

“Do you love him, Tobio? You seem so happy. It must be really nice, you know, to have someone care about you like that.”

Tobio stiffens, and Oikawa’s arms flex around his neck. Patting his back awkwardly, Tobio wonders if this is a hug, if Oikawa is _hugging_ him, and what his deal is with Tobio’s relationship. Oikawa has his own fan club after all—if he wants to find someone to love him, he definitely has his pick of the litter.

“Oi, stop strangling the underclassmen.”

The temperature of Tobio’s skin suddenly feels too cool as Oikawa’s pulled off him, Iwaizumi’s frown carving deep, dark lines in his already angular face.

“Jealous, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s tone is back to normal, not presenting a hint of the bitterness Tobio had heard in his ear.

Tobio turns and stumbles out of the kitchen to the living room before he can catch Iwaizumi’s response. He doesn’t think that he likes drunk Oikawa and his weird statements that make Tobio think maybe Oikawa is more human than he appears after all.

The room is small, and while there are grinding bodies everywhere, Hinata is easy to spot. He draws the eye like a shaft of light in the dark, and Tobio stops breathing as soon as his eyes settle upon Hinata’s form.

He’s pressed up against Suga, and he’s doing these body rolls that make Tobio’s mouth absolutely water. He and Suga are looking at each other, laughing, singing along to whatever stupid pop song is blaring through the speakers. Suga’s got his hands on Hinata’s hips, and as Hinata movies, Suga’s hand forces the fabric of Hinata’s shirt over his fingers, displaying the gorgeous muscle running next to Hinata’s hipbone, and that tantalizing strip of boxer that Tobio loves to look at.

He realizes faintly that the room isn’t dimming, that Hinata really isn’t a source of light, but he’s drunk enough that he let himself have these bizarre, sappy thoughts. He’s content enough to just watch, even if he knows that should be him pressed up against Hinata, should be his hands digging into that soft, freckled skin. Hard enough to leave bruises, maybe.

There’s a flash of that darkness under Tobio’s skin, enough to make him shiver. That last thought was kind of weird, and he shakes his head to get rid of it. He suddenly feels a little uneasy, even if it’s murky under all the layers of tequila in his blood.

“Just gonna stare all night?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Tobio doesn’t turn his face towards Daichi’s voice, still trying to not-think about his weird fantasies. 

Daichi laughs and slaps Tobio on the back. 

 

Shouyo’s pretty drunk, enough not to care that his back is sweaty where it’s pressed up against Suga’s, and that their hips are moving a little out of rhythm to the music. He always feels freer when he’s dancing, in a way that’s similar to the way he feels on the court but not exactly—dancing can never equate to the feeling of almost flying.

But it comes close, and he’s enjoying himself, his blood thrumming hot and heavy through his veins, his heart thudding against his ribcage in joyful beats of _you’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive._

Suddenly Suga’s fingers tense on Shouyo’s skin, and he’s opening his eyes as Suga pushes him a little away from him.

Daichi is already close to them, grabbing Suga’s wrist and pulling him out from behind Shouyo with a wink in the ginger’s direction. Shouyo grins, which gets a little wider as Kageyama appears from behind Daichi.

“Hey!” Shouyo says, reaching out for Kageyama’s shirt to pull him closer.

“Hey,” Kageyama says.

He slips behind Shouyo, taking Suga’s spot, and Shouyo feels himself leaning back eagerly. They take a moment to steady themselves before Shouyo finds the beat of the bass over the beat of his heart.

Kageyama takes Shouyo’s hands, pulling them down at Shouyo’s side, and Shouyo lifts his back off Kageyama’s chest, rolling his stomach and hips forward before dipping them back. Kageyama pushes his hips forward to meet the curve of Shouyo’s ass as he presses back, and this is nothing like it was with Suga. Shouyo can already feel heat curling low in his belly, which only intensifies as he repeats the movement, grinding back on Kageyama a little more forcefully this time.

Kageyama’s face dips down to nuzzle Shouyo’s hair, and his fingers untangle from Shouyo’s to slide over his hips. Shouyo presses his hips back and twist them a little, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to create a movement that has Kageyama huffing into his hair. Kageyama’s fingers slip under Shouyo’s shirt, thumbs pressing solidly into his back without making any move to stop him.

It doesn’t take long for Shouyo to feel Kageyama’s erection against his ass, and his own jeans feel a little too tight for comfort, and there’s a ton of other people in the room. But he couldn’t care less because Kageyama’s body is rolling forward to meet him, and they don’t even have to try for a rhythm, it’s just there, like they’ve been doing this for ages, like Shouyo was meant to fit against the tall, lean frame of this dark-haired boy with the intense blue stare.

Kageyama’s mouth dips down to Shouyo’s ear. “God,” he purrs. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”

Something cold like ice shoots down Shouyo’s spine, chased by a roaring heat. It feels like _pleasure_ but it also feels like _more._ He spins, pushing Kageyama’s body until his shoulders hit the wall behind them. Kageyama lets out a grunt, his eyes glazed over by alcohol and maybe something else, and then Shouyo’s hands are in Kageyama’s hair, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

It’s clumsy, and a little too rough: Kageyama’s mouth is a little too high up to meet Shouyo’s head on. Shouyo feels Kageyama breathe out roughly before adjusting them, and Shouyo’s mouth opens eagerly against Kageyama’s.

He tastes like tequila and limes, and maybe a little like the barbeque chips they’d scrounged from the cupboard. Shouyo has to resist the urge to groan as Kageyama’s tongue pushes past his, swirling around the tip before sweeping against the roof of Shouyo’s mouth. He accompanies this by forcing his leg between Shouyo’s and pulling their hips together roughly.

This time Shouyo thinks he _does_ groan, or at least whines. He pants against Kageyama’s mouth as Kageyama sucks at Shouyo’s bottom him, moving his hands from Shouyo’s hips to his ass and rocking them together a few more times.

Shouyo’s body is practically vibrating by the time Kageyama’s mouth finds its way to his non-pierced ear, biting down and pressing soft, wet kisses against the lobe. His hands are glued in Kageyama’s hair, and he can’t even appreciate how soft and thick it is while Kageyama’s fingers are pushing under his shirt, trailing fire up the knobs of Shouyo’s spine. 

Suddenly, the heat inside him intensifies, and he knows he’ll be in trouble if they keep it up like this—it’s been a long time since anyone’s made him feel so tense with want.

Shouyo finds his hands slipping down to Kageyama’s chest before he shove him a little. Kageyama pulls back, brows furrowed over his dark eyes.

“I—I want to go home,” Shouyo stutters. 

Kageyama stares at him a moment before his hand lifts and cups the side of Shouyo’s face. He leans down and presses another kiss to his mouth, but it’s gentler, a slow burn as compared to a wildfire. It makes Shouyo ache in a whole new way, like Kageyama’s communicating with Shouyo’s heart via his lips, or something equally as dumb.

When Kageyama pulls away, he wastes no time slipping their fingers together and pulling Shouyo towards the door. Shouyo has enough time to locate Suga—grinding into Daichi’s lap on a nearby couch—and wave at him before they’re down the hall and out into the cooling spring air.

 

They’re pretty drunk, but to Tobio’s relief, they make it back to Hinata’s apartment safely and without incident. He waits until Hinata’s got his keys in the lock before spinning him around and pressing him back into the door.

God, he do this forever, probably, drinking him in until his body is sparkling from the inside out. That’s what he’s thinking about as he coaxes Hinata’s tongue out of his mouth, deepening the kiss slowly enough that it feels like the fire starts in his heart to crawl outwards through his veins.

It’s not the same kind of kiss that they’d had while grinding and sweating on each other, but it’s nice too, maybe better, the way Hinata’s body melts against his, the gentle sound that he makes against Tobio’s lips, somewhere between a sigh and a chirp.

Hinata breaks away. “Come inside, Kageyama.”

This is the best idea anyone’s ever had, Kageyama thinks, his hips pressing forward unconsciously against Hinata’s. Their mouths meet again, and this time it’s an explosion, and Hinata’s head bangs back against the door with the force of it, but neither of them falter under the weight of trying to devour each other.

God, _yes,_ Tobio thinks as Hinata’s nails dig into his shoulders and he hears himself growl and his hands are curling into fists against the door and Tobio’s mouth is on Hinata’s neck and he’s biting down—

“ _Kageyama,_ ” Hinata groans. “Please. Please come inside.”

The way Tobio’s name sounds coming out of Hinata’s mouth, and those pleases almost destroy Tobio. He feel like he might just explode out of his skin right here, now, before Hinata has time to unlock the door and lead him inside. He wants to take Hinata inside and fuck him into the sheets, wants to hear his name pour off of Hinata’s swollen, bruised lips, wants to bury himself in this incredibly sexy man and relieve some of the pressure that’s been building since the day he laid eyes on him in that park.

But he lifts his head and presses his temple against Hinata’s instead. The uneasiness is back. His stomach feels a little too tight to be comfortable. Tobio takes a deep, steadying breath. Then another.

“Kageyama,” Hinata prompts. He tugs on Tobio’s shirt for emphasis.

“We’re drunk.”

Hinata’s fingers curl and uncurl in the material against Tobio’s chest. He wonders absently if Hinata can feel how hard his heart is beating right now, the way Tobio can feel it all the way in his fingertips.

“I don’t…” Tobio takes another breath. “I don’t want it to be like that. With you.” It’s not a lie, even if it’s not exactly the whole truth, either.

Hinata turns his head a little, so his breath is puffing out against the spot behind Tobio’s ear. His hands are small and overwarm, slipping back to rub Tobio’s shoulders, pulling himself closer to Tobio’s chest. Tobio feels his body relax into the hug, his arms coming down to wrap around Hinata’s shoulders.

“Will you at least stay?”

Tobio’s heart seizes at how soft and warm that question sounded. He pulls Hinata tight against him, burying his nose in his hair and inhaling deeply. “I want to. I really, really want to.”

“So do it.”

Tobio sighs and nuzzles the top of Hinata’s head. “If I do, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

“Yamaguchi said something like that earlier.” Hinata laughs quietly.

After a moment or so, they pull away from each other and Hinata leans back against the door. He studies Tobio with tired, glazed over eyes.

“I’m beginning to think that dating you means having constant blue-balls,” he says dryly.

Tobio can feel the blush explode across his face, and he coughs into a fist to hide from Hinata’s sudden laughter.

“Sorry,” Tobio grumbles, though he wants to say that the statement is pretty accurate. For both of them.

Their goodbyes are quick after that, and Tobio trudges home alone. By the time he’s wriggled out of his clothes and collapsed in bed, the scorching need in his veins has calmed down some, tempered by the drunk-tired sitting behind his eyes like a weight.

He briefly contemplates relieving the tension shivering from his legs to his small back, but rolled over onto his stomach and mashed his face into the pillow instead. It didn’t feel right. Not when he would rather have a small, strong body cuddled into his side, grabby hands still and relaxed as they drifted off to sleep together.

 

Shouyo and Kageyama don’t see each other for a few days after that, their lives getting busier as the summer approached. But after a movie that Kageyama and Yamaguchi wanted to see came out on DVD, Shouyo convinced them to have a movie night, regardless of their schedules. Tsukishima was going to be at the library all night, so Kageyama offered to host, telling Shouyo that if they bought the movie, he’d cook dinner for them. It was an offer Shouyo couldn’t refuse.

Shouyo chats Yamaguchi’s ear off as they knock on Kageyama’s door. Yamaguchi seems distracted, but Shouyo doesn’t comment on it—he feels like Yamaguchi would tell him if something were wrong. He’s more likely to brush Shouyo’s concern aside if he calls him out on it.

Kageyama opens the door and waves them inside. The smell of fried rice swarms them as they shut the door behind them. Shouyo takes a deep breath, practically salivating.

“I made food,” Kageyama calls over his shoulder.

Shouyo bounces into the kitchen with Yamaguchi trailing behind. 

“You have a nice place, Kageyama,” Yamaguchi says politely.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. I couldn’t afford it on my own.”

As if on cue, the door bangs open, and after a pause, Tsukishima appears. He’s walking by, apparently not even going to spare the group a glance, before he freezes and turns to glare at them.

“We’re having a movie night,” Kageyama snaps, already on the defensive.

“Fine,” Tsukishima says. His eyes have fixed on Yamaguchi, who does nothing but smile serenely.

“Hello, I’m Yamaguchi Tadeshi,” he says. “I’m Hinata’s roommate.”

Tsukishima seems to process this, his eyes flicking to Shouyo’s face and back. “Tsukishima Kei.”

Kageyama puts plates of food down on the table, and puts his back to Tsukishima. Tsukishima’s mouth twists before he’s turning as well, heading down the hall towards the bedrooms.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Yamaguchi calls.

Shouyo looks around at his friend with wide eyes. He knows that he’s told Yamaguchi about Tsukishima—Kageyama and him call him the Giant Asshole for a reason. He’s never been nice to Shouyo or Kageyama, and Shouyo doubts he’s ever been nice to anyone ever.

Tsukishima halts again, turning around with a confused frown on his face. “Um.”

“And you’re more than welcome to watch the movie with us,” Yamaguchi says. “It’s the new _Godzilla._ ”

Kageyama glares at Yamaguchi and then at Shouyo. Shouyo shrugs helplessly.

“I’ll eat later,” Tsukishima says finally. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “But thanks.”

Yamaguchi snickers as Tsukishima all but darts down the hall. Kageyama flicks some rice at Yamaguchi, his glare not yet dissipated.

“I mean, have you ever tried to be nice to him?” Yamaguchi asks.

Shouyo and Kageyama exchange a glance. Kageyama clears his throat. “I mean, when someone’s consistently an asshole to you, you generally don’t want to be nice to them. Ever.”

Yamaguchi hums in agreement and starts shoving food in his mouth.

After the meal, Yamaguchi takes the DVD to the player and Shouyo flops down onto Kageyama, who was just getting comfortable on the couch. Kageyama’s skin is overwarm, and Shouyo ignores his grumbles as he nuzzles down between Kageyama’s side and the couch. After a few moments, Kageyama rearranges him so that his arm is draped over Shouyo’s shoulder, hand spreading over Shouyo’s side.

“Bathroom?” Yamaguchi asks as the commercials start up.

“First door on the left,” Kageyama responds absently. He runs his fingers through Shouyo’s hair and closes his eyes.

While the commercials roll on, Shouyo’s hand wanders over Kageyama’s stomach, feeling out the muscles of his abs over his shirt. His stomach flexes, and Shouyo feels himself grinning. He lets his fingers wander up onto Kageyama’s chest, Shouyo’s cheek vibrating as Kageyama releases a happy sigh. This is the moment that Shouyo decides to flick the pad of his thumb over Kageyama’s nipple. 

The lanky body jerks, immediately tense. Shouyo holds still, listening to Kageyama’s breathing, before doing it again. It’s harder this time, which makes it easier to illicit a reaction from Kageyama.

“Stop it.”

Long, tan fingers wrap around Shouyo’s wrist. He pouts, turning his lip out as he looks up at Kageyama. “Why?”

His lips are pursed, but his dark eyes are amused. “Because Yamaguchi will be back any moment, and I don’t want him to catch us being gross.”

“We’re not gross!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re not Yamaguchi. You wouldn’t want to see one of your friends doing stuff like that.”

“But, but—”

Kageyama leans down and silences Shouyo with a kiss, which only makes Shouyo want to misbehave more.

“Gross.”

Shouyo feels Kageyama scowl against his mouth before pulling away. Tsukishima is glaring at them, while Yamaguchi laughs.

“I convinced Tsukishima-kun to watch the movie with us,” he explains.

“Joy of joys,” Kageyama deadpans.

Tsukishima looks like he might say something, but his gaze flicks to Yamaguchi, who’s moving to settle down on the floor by the couch. He smiles up at  
Tsukishima and pats the ground next to him. Tsukishima hesitates, adjusts his glasses, and finally moves to sit in the area. 

As Yamaguchi starts the movie, Shouyo meets Kageyama’s eyes. They’re wide, and his brow is quirked up in a funny way. His expression mirrors Shouyo’s thoughts: _How weird is this?_

Shouyo settles down and presses his cheek back to Kageyama’s chest. He quickly feels his body relaxing, the soft swelling of Kageyama’s chest as he inhales and the steady beating of his heart warming Shouyo in a way he can’t begin to describe, filling him to the brim with something vibrant and intense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is a little late! I try to update this story on Wednesdays, but this week I had to write a 15 page paper on how fear effected the outcome of Anne Hutchinson's legal trial in Puritan New England (kill me, please). This chapter was supposed to be longer, which is why the ending might feel a little cut off, but I thought it was long enough!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tobio may or may not regret phone sex, and Shouyo is about to be sent on an emotional roller coaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I'm right at the end of my semester, as well as the editor of a literary magazine that's almost ready to produce our next issue. Long story short, it's a miracle I'm not dead right now.
> 
> But! This chapter is longer than the last ones! This means that this fic is definitely going to be longer than 7 chapters now. I'm off course, but I'm just going where my boys lead me, people.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! It's about to get a little more sexy and a lot more complicated.

There is a moment of horrifying clarity in which Tobio thinks _I am so fucked._

It’s just a practice match with a neighboring university. A trial run, so to speak, a chance for him to step out of Oikawa’s shadow and shine on his own. A chance to shoot forward, grow. Win the team over, and give them a win at the same time.

Instead, he finds himself panicking. This other team, they’re good. Really good. Really, _really_ fucking good, blocking their spikes with gut-churning ease, receiving even the nastiest serves, and managing to find new ways to surprise Tobio, just when he’s figured out their strategy.

He can feel himself slipping, his thoughts seeming to echo in his own head, the strength in his arms too great when the ball leaves his fingertips. He watches from outside himself as the ball sails past Daichi’s hand, shot too hard, too fast. Iwaizumi tries to compensate, but the ball ends up hitting the net on their side. The other team gets the point.

The whistle blows, and it sounds as hollow as Tobio’s chest feels. He drags his eyes to the sidelines, where Oikawa waits with a neutral expression. He’s being switched out.

As he passes his upperclassman, he feels a pressure on his shoulder that has nothing to do with his failure.

“Hold your head up, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says quietly. “You’re fighting your hardest. That’s the only way you get better.”

Oikawa’s hand slips away as he jogs onto the court. It only adds to the weight Tobio feels.

He sits on the bench with the other first years, doing his best to focus on Oikawa’s movements, the way he directs the team, how he holds his pride like a weapon. If I study long enough, maybe one day I can be as great as him, he thinks. Tobio feels a pressure behind his eyes, but he steels himself against it.

He wonders if Hinata will be disappointed in him. He’s certainly disappointed in himself.

 

Tobio’s body feels too heavy as he waits for Hinata to answer his door. He’d taken extra time in the shower, trying to scrub away his shame and disappointment at the expense of his own skin. Now he feels sensitive and raw—at least his outside matches how he’s feeling inside.

The door yanks open, and there’s the shock of orange hair, a vibrant smile that somehow manages to thaw the cage of ice around Tobio’s heart just a little.

“Hey!” Hinata bounces on the pads of his feet happily.

“Hey.” Tobio tries to offer him a smile.

Hinata’s grin droops, which stabs a spear of guilt through Tobio’s stomach. They’re quiet as Tobio slips inside, stepping out of his shoes as Hinata closes the door.

“Rough day?” Hinata asks. His voice is light, but there’s a hint of concern gnawing at the edges of his normally warm tones. 

“Hmm. Yeah.” Tobio flops onto the couch and pulls Hinata down onto him. “You?”

“Just long. The heat makes me sleepy.” He punctuates the sentence with a yawn.

Tobio hums again, rubbing the bridge of his nose against Hinata’s scalp. He smells like shampoo, fresh and clean, combined with his natural smell—like hot sand, or warm, damp earth. It’s not often that he can get Hinata to lay still like this, unless he’s in the process of falling asleep during a movie. He snuggles his small body down against Tobio’s. Hinata’s breath puffs out evenly against the skin of Tobio’s neck. Tobio closes his eyes, not able to resist running his fingers over Hinata’s back, above his shirt.

“What do you want to watch?” Hinata asks after a while.

“Whatever you want.” Tobio breathes out slowly. “I don’t really care.”

Hinata shifts around on top of Tobio, forcing a grunt from between his lungs. He feels Hinata’s saucer eyes on him, and he cracks his lids after a moment to confirm the stare.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

The softness in Hinata’s gaze and his voice is too much. Tobio squeezes his eyes closed, forcing Hinata’s head back down on his chest.

“Pick your movie,” he says gruffly.

When Hinata chuckles, it reverberates through Tobio’s ribcage and rattles his heart a little. He breathes out slowly again, a small smile developing on the exhale. He settles down over Tobio so that he’s lying belly-down, cheek on Tobio’s chest before picking up the Xbox controller.

The movie he chooses is loud, with lots of explosions and car chases. Tobio doesn’t even bother opening his eyes to follow what little plot there is. Instead, he replays the practice match in his mind over and over. He can’t stop thinking about the moment the whistle blared, when Oikawa had been _nice_ to him—

Hinata shifts, his hip and thigh settling a little more firmly between Tobio’s legs. It snaps him out of his thinking for a little. He realizes he’s been kneading Hinata’s shoulders, digging a little into the hard muscle. It’s one of the things about Hinata’s body that Tobio’s most attracted to—he’s small, but he’s not soft. 

Just when he’s comfortable enough to want to track down that last thought about the match, Hinata’s hips tip forward just a little. Tobio would think he’s imagining things, if not for the thumb pressed curiously against one of Tobio’s nipples. His hand comes up and rubs circles in the short hair at the back of Hinata’s head, moving towards the longer strands on top.

The thumb presses down and moves forward over the hard bud of Tobio’s nipple just as Hinata’s hips shift forward again. The movements are small, controlled, but Tobio can already feel an awesome heat threading its way through his system. He tugs a little at Hinata’s hair, which earns him an enthusiastic hum.

The third time Hinata grinds down, it’s a little firmer, especially as Tobio rises up a little to meet him. Both of their breaths explode outward, and as Hinata’s head tips back to catch Tobio’s gaze, Tobio leans down and seals their mouths together hungrily.

The angle is a little weird, and Hinata has to push himself up so that he’s hovering Tobio for better access. Their lips part almost instantly, allowing for the hot slide of their tongues to shatter what little composure Tobio had. Tobio surges forward, the sound of his growl swallowed by Hinata’s gasp. He drags his nails down Hinata’s back, slipping easily into his too-loose jeans to cup his ass over his boxers.

Hinata makes a pleased little chirp that turns into a groan as Tobio uses his hands to grind Hinata down onto him. Tobio is already half-hard, already half-gone as the kiss gets sloppier, Hinata’s voice falling more and more between their lips as Tobio digs his fingertips into the flexing muscle of his ass.

When Hinata abandons the kiss in favor of panting, Tobio sucks his way across his jawline, marveling at the smoothness of Hinata’s skin. He worries the supple firmness of Hinata’s neck with his teeth, eliciting excited murmurs from his partner. Hinata’s hands clench into Tobio’s shoulders, and he whimpers when one of Tobio’s hands slips up his back.

Before Tobio even realized what he’s doing, Hinata is beneath him on the couch. They blink at each other, Hinata breathlessly confused by the sudden switch. His face is flushed, his lips slick and kissed-red, color dusting high across his cheeks. His hair is even crazier than normal, which only adds to the manic glazed-over look in his eyes.

There’s a strange moment of calm as Tobio takes in all these features, a wonderful moment where all he can feel is the pounding of his heart and the heat from Hinata’s skin—

—and then their mouths are back together, and Hinata’s pulling Tobio’s shirt off in between kisses (which are far too aggressive to even really be called kisses, more like a clashing of teeth and tongues). Tobio’s hips are working against Hinata’s without his permission, seeking only to pleasure and be pleasured. He manages to jam a hand between them and press his palm against Hinata’s dick through his jeans, causing those wonderful brown eyes to roll back in a way that makes Tobio want to die a little. In another moment, the sound of his belt hitting the floor is registered faintly, as if heard from far away, and there isn’t a single thought in Tobio’s mind that isn’t _yes_ or _God_ or _more._

It isn’t until a heavy metallic taste floods his tongue that Tobio pulls back, his nose scrunching unpleasantly. Hinata’s chest is heaving, and his eyes take a moment before they open, his hand moving up to where he’s probing his bottom lip with his tongue.

“You’re bleeding,” Tobio says. 

Redundant, he thinks, but his brain is having a hard time making comprehensive thoughts when Hinata is practically vibrating underneath him, shirt rucked up around his armpits and pants mostly-undone. He can still taste the staleness of Hinata’s blood, and that’s helping to sober him up.

“Yeah.” Hinata sucks his lip into his mouth, turning the flesh around it white before releasing it. When he grins, his teeth are stained red, just faintly, and Tobio realizes he must have bitten him really hard to make him bleed like that.

The mood shatters like a hammer to a window. He closes his eyes: _How many more things are you going to ruin, Tobio?_ It’s not the first time he’s looked at this man and wondered, how much longer until you leave?

Hinata’s hands tug on Tobio’s shoulders. He jerks a little, remains upright, but he thinks Hinata probably wants his attention. He opens his eyes. 

The gaze he meets is bright and mischievous. There’s a little sweat on Hinata’s brow, and he’s still grinning, though it seems maybe a little shier than before. Tobio feels himself wilting under Hinata’s rough hands as he runs them over Tobio’s chest and stomach.

“You’re really hot, Kageyama,” he says lowly. His eyes wander down Tobio’s pecs, his abs. He raises his eyes abruptly, hooking his ankles together around Tobio’s waist. He tugs on his shoulders one more time. “More, yeah?”

Tobio looks down at him stupidly. “What?”

“Let’s keep going.” Hinata blushes a little, but his smile gets brighter.

Tobio finds it very hard to breathe. Someone’s inflated a balloon between his lungs and it’s too full, it hurts, but it pulses in time with the unbroken knock of his heart. His eyes sting as he leans down to press a soft kiss to the crook of Hinata’s neck, brushing his lips just barely over the little brown dots there. Hinata shivers.

Tobio shifts lower, pressing his forehead against the spot he just kissed, his nose burying against the hollow of Hinata’s throat. He can feel his pulse against the dip of his nose, and he’s breathing him in with every inhale. He wants to fall into this man, to meld with the wild beating of his heart, as determined and solid as the rest of him. A triumphant little star. If he could take just a little of that light, he might finally be happy with who he is. The thought tightens the feeling in his chest, just a little. Hitches his breath.

After a quiet moment, Hinata’s arms wrap around Tobio’s bare shoulders, hugging him fiercely. They stay like that even as the movie ends, and Yamaguchi comes home, darting past them with a cursory “I’m not looking!”

Eventually, Tobio feels okay enough to sit back. As soon as Hinata’s arms drop, the room is 1,000 degrees colder. He turns and snatches his shirt off of the ground. When he turns back, Hinata is focused on fixing himself: he pulls his shirt down over his lean stomach, buttons his pants. Tobio slips his shirt on and fiddles with his bangs. Hinata gives him a lopsided smile.

“Sorry,” Tobio says.

Hinata’s face scrunches adorably. “For what?”

Trying to cannibalize you? Getting weirdly emotional after? 

The words won’t come out. Tobio shrugs halfheartedly instead, eyes wandering to the Netflix home screen.

Hinata’s bare foot appears on Tobio’s arm, and he shoves playfully. “I hope you’re not apologizing for kissing me like that. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hot for someone _ever._ ”

Tobio scowls at the TV as he blushes from his ears down to his chest. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious!” The foot pushes again. “My dick was so hard it could cut diamonds. I was about to beg you to—”

Tobio’s hand appears over Hinata’s mouth, and he tries to keep his gaze threatening, even as he can feel heat in his veins again. “Shut. Up.”  
Hinata grins behind his hand. 

Tobio pulls back and finds the Xbox controller. “I’m picking the next movie. Your taste sucks.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.” 

The foot is back on Tobio’s arm. He ignores it in favor of flipping through the categories page. After a while, the foot squirms against him, toes wiggling and bunching in the fabric of his shirt. He does his best to pay attention to the screen.

“Your feet smell,” Tobio deadpans. He’s lying, but it’s nice to tease, sometimes.

“Do not!” Hinata squawks.

“Do too.”

“ _Do not!_ ”

“Do. Too.”

Suddenly the foot twists to his chest and grabs his nipple with terrifying accuracy. He howls and twists away, on his feet and glaring down at his boyfriend so quickly it should be humanly impossible. Hinata’s cackling so hard that his body curls in on itself.

“Why are you always touching me there?” Tobio demands. He rubs a hand fiercely over the spot, trying dampen the tingling feeling.

“You like it,” Hinata chokes out. “You always make this face like you don’t know whether to be annoyed or aroused. It’s wonderful.”

“I’m definitely annoyed,” he barks. 

The foot appears in front of his face, toes wiggling again. “But you probably liked it a little bit. Your face is all read, Kageyama, you pervert.”

Tobio grabs Hinata’s ankle and presses his fingers into the soft arch of the offending appendage. Hinata squeals and squirms, but Tobio doesn’t relent. Hinata throws himself off the couch and attempts to crawl away. It’s not long before they’re both belly-laughing, tears streaming down their faces.

Tobio collapses back on the couch, foot still in hand. Hinata is sprawled out by the coffee table, breath puffing out heavily from behind his smile. Tobio watches him for a little before pressing a kiss into the spot he’s abused. 

Hinata hums happily. He pulls his leg back, and Tobio lets him go, watches warmly as Hinata stretches and flops back on the couch.

“Did you pick a movie?”

“Yeah.”

As they settle back, Tobio presses play on _Ponyo._ He expects there to be some sort of comment on the selection, but all he gets is a happy chirp as Hinata mashes back against the cushion. After a moment, Hinata’s feet nudge into his lap. Tobio kneads them gently, trying not to be too hard or too soft.

They’re halfway through the movie when he looks over. Hinata’s eyes are closed, his lips parted just slightly. His breathing is slow and easy, one hand tucked behind his head and then other tossed over his belly. Tobio looks over his earring, the unruly curl of his hair, the freckles that his tan is bringing out nicely. He feels warm, and safe. 

“I fucked up at practice.”

He doesn’t mean to say it. It’s out before he’s even comprehended the thought. For a tense moment, he hopes that Hinata’s already asleep, but once his eyes open slowly, Tobio knows he’s going to have to tell.

He drops his eyes down to Hinata’s feet. Swallows heavily. Hinata doesn’t say anything, and the quiet between them is comfortable. Tobio pulls on Hinata’s toes a little.

“Coach had me start the match.” His fingers brush against the tan line above Hinata’s ankle. “I panicked. None of my sets connected. I got benched. And Oikawa was…nice. To me. Which, honestly, makes me feel shittier.” 

“One bad day doesn’t define you, Kageyama,” Hinata says softly.

Tobio takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“I’ve played against you. You’re a genius.” 

Tobio wants to tell him that means nothing if he can’t connect to other people. But the words crowd in his throat and keep him silent.

Hinata sits up and pats Tobio’s back a little too hard. “You’re a fucking monster on the court. I know it, you know?”

When Tobio doesn’t respond, Hinata’s hands fist in his shirt, one at the back and one at his chest. He shakes him a little, until Tobio forces himself to meet that molten gaze.  
Hinata’s expression is all determination and ferocity. He nods as if their eye contact settles something. “I know it. _I know it._ ”

It’s like a bubble bursting—all evaporating rainbows and surprise. Tobio feels a little feverish looking into that expression of blind faith. Has anyone ever believed in him so passionately? Even himself? The answer is obvious.

He wants to kiss Hinata until all the air is sucked out of his lungs. He wants to do what should have come after that breathless _let’s keep going._ He wants to litter this boy with bites and hickies so dark that no one would question his relationship status again. He wants to say everything with his body that his mouth can’t seem to comprehend.  
Instead, he nods and turns back to continue not-watching the movie.

Kageyama Tobio is nineteen when he falls in love for the first time.

 

“Guys.”

Suga and Yamaguchi pause at the counter, looking at each other before over at Shouyo. Asahi’s gaze pops up from his book. When he’s sure he has their attention, Shouyo draws in a slow breath and lets it out just as slowly.

“What?” Suga wipes his hands on a towel, turning away from his stove to face him fully.

“I swear to God, if I don’t get some action soon, my dick is gonna fall off,” Shouyo says.

Yamaguchi doubles over in laughter while Asahi groans. Suga levels Shouyo with a dirty look before turning back. “You’re an idiot. I thought it was something serious.”

“This is serious!” Shouyo howls. 

“My dry spell is lasting much longer than yours, and I’m doing just fine,” Asahi says. He turns the page in his book and settles back comfortably in the chair.

“Your dry spell is self-imposed,” Yamaguchi argues.

“I’m trying to have sex so bad! Not even all the way! Just a little sex! But he’s so…ugh!” Shouyo leans back dangerously far on his stool. 

“I’m sorry, Shou,” Suga says. “Getting rejected sucks.”

“You wouldn’t know!” Shouyo crows. “You’ve never been rejected. You’ve never even been with someone long enough to have this problem.”

“Not all of us find monogamy necessary,” Yamaguchi says breezily.

Shouyo laughs. “You are the opposite of monogamous, Yama. You’ve never even slept with the same person twice.”

“Really?” Asahi looks stunned.

Yamaguchi smiles a little wickedly and turns back to help Suga at the stove.

“He calls it double dipping,” Shouyo whispers conspiratorially.

“That’s…” Asahi’s face isn’t sure what kind of expression to make. Shouyo cackles at it.

“What if Kageyama’s a virgin?” Yamaguchi says.

Shouyo chokes on his inhale and flails. He promptly falls off the stool, much to Yamaguchi’s glee. Suga picks him up calmly before setting a tray full of food on the counter.

“Kageyama’s not a virgin,” Suga says after they’ve all taken their seats. “I asked Daichi about it.”

“You asked Daichi about my boyfriend’s virginity?” Shouyo laughs.

“I wanted to know his intentions!” Suga defends.

Asahi sighs heavily and shoves his chopsticks in his mouth.

“Whatever, mom.” Yamaguchi snorts.

Suga waves away their negativity. “I have to protect my little spark.”

“If Shou’s fire, I want to be water,” Yamaguchi says around a mouthful of food.

Asahi shoots him a weird look.

“Like the elements!” Yamaguchi explains. “If he’s fire, then I’m water. ‘Cuz I keep him in line.”

“I do that more,” Suga says.

“Hey!”

They ignore him.

“Yeah, but fire feeds off air. He needs you more than he needs me,” Yamaguchi explains. “So you’re air, and Asahi’s earth.”

“Wind shapes the earth!” Shouyo says.

“And earth grounds water.” Yamaguchi grins at Asahi.

Asahi smiles back. “And fire makes the earth better.”

“I love it!” Shouyo grins at everyone.

Suga laughs. “Where the hell did this conversation come from, anyway?”

“The fact that you know more about Kageyama’s sexual history than his boyfriend does,” Asahi deadpans.

Yamaguchi snickers as Suga scowls at Asahi.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Suga stabs his chopsticks at Shouyo. “He’s _your_ boyfriend, and this is _your_ sex life. Just ask him why he’s cockblocking you.”

There are hums of agreement. For a few relaxed moments, everyone eats in the quiet of Suga’s apartment.

Then Yamaguchi clears his throat. “So if we’re not going to talk about how Shouyo’s not banging the setter, can we talk about how Suga _is_ banging the wing spiker?”

Shouyo chokes on his food. Asahi sighs heavily. Yamaguchi cackles away, and Suga’s forehead connects with the table heavily.

“Why am I even friends with you?” he whines.

“Daichi seems like a nice guy,” Asahi says.

Suga scoffs. “It’s not serious.”

Yamaguchi raises and eyebrow, which sets Suga off. They spend the next fifteen minutes listening to Suga’s lecture on the monotony of monogamy, and _how-dare-you-Yama-of-all-people, and it was just one time, guys, and we were drunk, honestly._

“Was he really good?” Shouyo asks after a while.

“Maybe he will double dip,” Asahi quips.

Yamaguchi blows them both kisses.

“I hate you guys.” Suga throws his plate in the sink, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Shouyo beams around the table, and thinks he probably couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to love.

 

It’s another one of Kageyama’s really busy weeks, and even though the dinner with his friends helped, Shouyo’s feeling lonely.

He rolls around his bed, staring absently at the trash television which is the only thing even remotely interesting playing. Yamaguchi “went out,” which meant he probably went for a quick hookup, and Suga was busy—getting ready for Daichi to come over, probably. Asahi travelled back home to spend some time with his mother on his days off. Shouyo is just feeling listless and blah.

And horny.

He side-eyes his laptop, wondering if it’s even worth the energy to pull up some porn. He’s not an avid watcher, but this constant start-and-stop with Kageyama has him jacking off more than usual lately.

His phone buzzes, and he welcomes the distraction.

From: Kageyama  
>>Practice was brutal

Shouyo rolls onto his stomach, burying the lower half of his face into his pillow.

To: Kageyama  
>>u home???

From: Kageyama  
>>Yeah

He’s responding so quickly that Shouyo thinks maybe he should just call him. It would be really nice to hear his voice, the deep baritones rumbling into his ear, scratchy and low from working out so hard. The thought excites him.

From: Kageyama  
>>Just showered n got in bed

Shouyo bites into the pillow. God, he’s made it too easy. He squirms as he types his response.

To: Kageyama  
>>wish i was there

He tops it off with a winky face and hits send.

The longer he doesn’t get a response, the more anticipation builds in his system. He opens and closes a few apps to kill time.

From: Kageyama  
>>Ha ha

Shouyo wrinkles his face. Seriously, what the fuck. He has to up his game, he thinks. He rolls onto his back and strips out of his shirt. Holding the phone as far away as possible—damn his short arms—he takes a few selfies, pausing only to muss his hair and little and shimmy his sleep-pants lower on his hips, exposing the elastic of his boxers like Kageyama seems to enjoy.

He selects one where he’s clearly pouting, but his abs are tense and his arms look good. The light of the TV is casting shadows over him, and his skin is practically glowing in the dimness. He sends it to Kageyama with the caption, “im serious im lonelyyyyyyy”.

It takes a good long while before he gets a response.

From: Kageyama  
>>You look good even w/ the pout

Shouyo scoffs and scrunches his face again. It’s not exactly what he was hoping for, but he can work with it.

To: Kageyama  
>>just 4 u ;)

When there’s no response, Shouyo decides to keep going.

To: Kageyama  
>>i cant stop thinking about the way u kissed me last weekend  
>>it was sooo hot

He grins when a text pings in.

From: Kageyama  
>>I almost ripped your mouth off

He scowls. He wants to chastise Kageyama, but he’s trying to develop a mood. He keeps trying.

To: Kageyama  
>>it wasnt that bad weirdo  
>>i like it when ur rough

He chews on his lip before deciding to just be brave and go for it—this is his boyfriend, after all.

To: Kageyama  
>>im getting hard just thinking about it

This isn’t a lie. There’s a little heat trolling sluggishly through his veins. He sticks a hand down his pants and coaxes his erection to life. He plays with himself a little, but he’s distracted by the lack of response. Did Kageyama fall asleep? It’s not wholly unlikely, but…

To: Kageyama  
>>u there??  
>>kageyama???

From: Kageyama  
>>Hinata

Shouyo feels himself wilt a little.

To: Kageyama  
>>want me 2 stop?

A picture message comes in. When Shouyo opens it, it’s of Kageyama from above, one hand over half his face, and the other half is red and scrunched. Shouyo can make out his bare arms and the tops of his bare shoulders.

From: Kageyama  
>>Your not embarrassed?

To: Kageyama  
>>no??? ur my bf ofc i want u

He wait a moment before sending another text.

To: Kageyama  
>>i want u so bad tobio

He knows it’s a gamble. It’s the first time he’s ever said Kageyama’s given name, and he’s not even really saying it. But something’s aching inside him, something that wants validation from Kageyama that he’s attractive, that he’s wanted. The more he waits for a text, the more he feels desperate for one to come through.

Anything, he thinks. I’ll take anything.

Another picture. This one’s shot down Kageyama’s body. Shouyo squints at it—the photo’s dark—until he realizes he can make out the line of Kageyama’s erection in his pajamas. A wave of victory washes over him, encourages his cock to get harder, and he snaps a pic of his hand down his pants before sending it.

To: Kageyama  
>>u got a name kink????

From: Kageyama  
>>Just for you

Shouyo feels a rush of pleasure, and he starts moving his hand firmly over his erection. 

From: Kageyama  
>>God that pic  
>>Wish I could see

Shouyo starts panting at the thought. He’s never jacked off for anybody before, but having Kageyama watch him sometime might be hot. His imagination runs with that—he closes his eyes and can almost feel that intense blue gaze washing over him, as heated and direct as it had been the other night when it pinned Shouyo to the couch.

He wiggles his hips, pushing his pants and boxers down enough that his dick springs free. He snaps a pic of it held firmly in his fist before sending it. 

The response is almost immediate.

From: Kageyama  
>>Fuck thats so hot

Shouyo abandons the phone. He smears precum over the tip of his length with his thumb, hand working faster as his mind fills with memories of Kageyama’s hands hot on his sides, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear, teeth testing the skin of his neck.

None of his thoughts are particularly dirty, but they’re more than enough.

Everything turns white when he comes.

 

To say that Tobio regrets the phone sex is both a lie and a truth.

Lie: it had been really fucking hot. He’d managed to have multiple orgasms _by himself_ just from pictures Hinata’d sent. He wanted to do it again. 

Truth: it was getting more and more difficult for him to find ways to deny Hinata sex. He never should have allowed the phone sex in the first place.

He knows he’s being stupid. In the rational, more logic-based part of his brain, Tobio knows that he probably wouldn’t hurt Hinata, even if he were being rough. And Hinata had said that he liked it when Tobio was rough.

But.

There are these whispers. Ghosts like smoke that curl and uncurl behind his sternum. They send his heart into overdrive, make his stomach clench and roil. They say _you will hurt him_ or _he will hurt you._

He doesn’t know which one is more likely. He doesn’t know which one scares him more.

The pictures were evidence enough. When Tobio had sent the ‘wish I could see’ text, he’d been dead tired and more than a little hard. He didn’t think Hinata would actually oblige—if he’d been feeling more himself, Tobio never would have even sent that text. 

But Hinata has no sense of shame. He doesn’t worry about boundaries or repercussions. He just offers and offers without having to be asked. And if it’s offered, Tobio will surely take. It’s the kind of person he is, he thinks.

It hurts, but he avoids Hinata for a little after that. He chalks it up to school and volleyball. But Hinata is nothing if not persistent.

From: Hinata  
>>i miss u  
>>a lot  
>>come over???

Always the abundance of question marks. It makes Tobio’s heart squeeze. He wonders when he got so damn sentimental.

To: Hinata  
>>Not tonight

The next text from him is just full of the little crying emoji. Tobio sighs and buries his head further under his blanket. This sucks. He misses Hinata a lot. He closes his eyes and thinks he could probably drift off. He’s just on that side of sleepy.

From: Hinata  
>>but but  
>>i want u

Tobio’s body goes from Tired to Ready in two seconds flat. He growls at the phone and adjusts his boxers.

To: Hinata  
>>Not tonight

A picture message comes through and Tobio thinks he might actually die. When he opens it, it’s an innocent one. Hinata’s pouting into the camera, his wide, dark eyes illuminated by what’s probably his television. He looks almost alien, and definitely adorable. Tobio feels himself frowning. He misses him.

Tobio takes a picture of himself with his face mashed in the pillow and sends it. It’s not attractive, but that’s kind of what he’s going for.

From: Hinata  
>>no fun  
>>i want cuddles

Cuddles sound so nice. Hinata’s like a little furnace, and even if laying up against each other makes Tobio all sweaty (and not in a good way), he loves the feeling of his cool skin again Hinata’s.

He’s just about to reply when another text comes through.

From: Hinata  
>>sexy cuddles ;D

Damn. Sexy cuddles sound. So. Good.

Tobio sighs and tosses his phone onto the pillow next to him. He takes a few deep breaths, trying not to squirm his hips against the mattress like he’s tempted to. He ignores the texts for so long he thinks Hinata’s given up.

From: Hinata  
>>kaageeeeyaaaaamaaaaa

To: Hinata  
>>What

From: Hinata  
>>sext me lol

“LOL?” Tobio says aloud. He’s impressed that Hinata can make him aroused and amused in a single text. He waits a little before responding.

To: Hinata  
>>No

From: Hinata  
>>whaaaaaa????  
>>y??  
>>last time was so fun!

Tobio sighs heavily. Fun, maybe. Intense, definitely. He’d bitten so hard into his hand that it’d left a mark, which was not unnoticed by Oikawa.

“If you want to be a setter, then you have to take care of your weapons, Tobio-chan!” He’d sniffed and looked at his own perfectly manicured hands. “Stop doing dirty things or it’ll effect your work, you pervert.”

“How would you even know what the bruise is from, Oikawa, if you don’t do it yourself?” Tobio had retorted.

Iwaizumi had laughed so hard that Tobio thought he’d die from lack of oxygen.

Tobio pulls his t-shirt into his mouth, chewing on the neckline a little. He re-reads Hinata’s texts, trying to figure out how best to convey his reluctance without actually having this conversation.

To: Hinata  
>>I just dont think we should

From: Hinata  
>>??? ok????  
>>can u tell me y?  
>>im confused

Tobio sighs in frustration and types something quickly.

To: Hinata  
>>It makes me uncomfortable

Tobio regrets it almost immediately. It does make him uncomfortable, but only because it makes it harder to control his own desire. He’s never had a problem when it comes to controlling himself, and he really doesn’t want to start now. Who knows what sort of disaster might follow, then.

From: Hinata  
>>i didnt know  
>>im really sorry kageyama  
>>r u mad?

Only one question mark this time. Tobio feels his heart sinking. Of course Hinata wouldn’t know—Tobio’d been more than encouraging the last time, and he was basically lying right now. Guilt tastes sour on the back of his tongue.

To: Hinata  
>>No dumbass I wouldnt be mad over something like that  
>>Lets just not do it

From: Hinata  
>>yeah ok

There’s a really long pause after that. Tobio is restless, fidgeting with his phone and continuously checking to see if Hinata sent something else. He’s just drafting a new message when his phone vibrates.

From: Hinata  
>>are we ok?  
>>im really sorry

Tobio wants to throw himself out the window. He’s such a shit person. He’s an even shittier boyfriend.

To: Hinata  
>>Yeah of course we are stupid

He hesitates before sending another text

To: Hinata  
>>When are you free next? I really want to see you  
>>I miss you  
>>A lot

The reply takes a little while to come in.

From: Hinata  
>>im free monday nite but u have practice  
>>so wednesday?

Tobio can’t even begin to fathom how much he hates the one question mark. He knows he fucked this conversation up in a spectacularly bad way. Hinata is obviously still upset.

To: Hinata  
>>Ill skip practice  
>>See you Monday??

The next text is full of exclamation points and an emoji with little waving arms. It makes Tobio smile a little. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Tries to shake the unease worming its way up his spine.

This is salvageable, he thinks. They’re okay. He can keep everything under control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, so I might as well share my reservations about this chapter. And all the chapters. Since I'm flopping POVs, I'm worried that both boys are coming off flat, or their actions aren't making too much sense--like Kags' thoughts about Hinata leaving seem to come from nowhere, but that's just because we haven't been in his brain to see the progress? It makes sense to me as a writer, but as a reader I think it would be disorienting. Thoughts?
> 
> Also, this is my first time writing any kind of smut akshgklashglksjlkag. I'm working hard to make it realistic and not cheesy-romance-novel but. My dudes. This is harder than I anticipated. 
> 
> I always appreciate your comments and advice! 
> 
> http://positivecomet.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the dead*
> 
> Oh, hey guys.

Tobio spends far too much time thinking lately.

He’s not very good at it: he knows that from experience. But he’s never really had to think about anything beyond volleyball and grades for a long time.

He keeps replaying his messages with Hinata over and over. He obsesses about the intensity of his desire for Hinata, for his presence as well as his body. Is it normal? Where does it come from? He knows—he just _knows_ —that if Hinata finds out about it, he’ll be unnerved at best and repulsed at worst. For the first time, he has someone in his life that he needs to keep. But how can he do that?

He feels the guilt of his answerless-ness to eat him from the inside out.

Daichi tries to get him to respond through his gentle-dad routine. And then with his stern-dad one. Oikawa tries to shame him out of his funk. Iwaizumi simply slaps him on the back a little too hard and gives him a perplexed 'are you okay' look.

The closer he gets to seeing Hinata again—moving it up to Sunday to accommodate Suga’s birthday —the more agitated he becomes. He isn’t _afraid,_ not exactly, but he’s definitely anxious—and not all of it is good nervous energy. He tries to draw it out, but he ends up making a lot of extremely dark charcoal smudges across whole pages of his notebook.

He’s not really surprised when the coach tells him to take a few days off to clear his head. Tobio feels like it should alleviate some of the anxiety he’s been piling on—now he doesn’t have to lie about skipping. Unsurprisingly, the coach telling him not to show up doesn’t make him feel any better. 

He decides it’s best not to tell Hinata anything. If he tells him about the coach asking him to take time off, then he has to say _why_ he’s been so in his head lately. It’s just too much. If their relationship remains uncomplicated, then there will be no reason for Hinata to leave him. Right?

The more he shies away from those thoughts, the more he can hear his father’s voice saying, _You can’t be sure you don’t like women, Tobio. Don’t be so dramatic._

He lies in bed at night, wondering if he would be able to close his eyes easier if he had Hinata’s firm weight pressing against him. He wonders if he will ever know that privilege, without everything falling down around him.

He’s wondering this one night, spinning in circles in his desk chair, before he uses his heels to skid to a stop. The room spins uncomfortable, something that brings a little smile to his face, before he pulls out his paints and a canvas.

The only thing Tobio can really focus on (oddly enough) are Iwaizumi’s, Suga’s, and Hinata’s birthdays. Iwaizumi’s comes first, on Friday, with Suga’s the following Monday. Hinata’s is only a week later.

“You better have a gift prepared for our beloved Iwa-chan,” Oikawa threatens him between classes. “We’re going to surprise him after practice that day, so you better show up.”  
Hinata’s throwing a little party at the bar that they go to, because they never ask for IDs. It seems like it will just be a few people, but Tobio still can’t help but feel a little nervous. It’s been a long time since he actually attended a birthday party.

 

Friday comes sooner than Tobio thought possible.

He lets the newspaper-wrapped canvas dangle a little between his fingers, confident after years of handling them that he won’t drop it.

Opening the locker room door, he wanders into the empty space and plops down on a bench. After a few awkward seconds of sitting in silence, he takes out his phone and sees a few notifications from Hinata.

It’s a picture of a squirrel crouching in the bushes, little face and paws stained by whatever berries he’d been eating. Tobio smiles. The next one is of Hinata trying to take a selfie with the squirrel, which looks less than amused. The third one is a short video of Hinata trying to woo the squirrel, which hisses at him, and the subsequent shrill shriek that Hinata produces.

Tobio grins and shoots off a quick message about not being a dumbass with wildlife when he’s supposed to be working.

The door to the gym opens, and sounds bounces around and off the cool tiled walls as adrenaline-excited players push their way into the room. Tobio acknowledges the waves and smiles of his teammates with nods of his head as they enter and flee to their lockers.

Iwaizumi pauses and wipes the collar of his jersey over his face. “What’re you doing here, Kageyama?”

Tobio stands quickly, not sure whether or not he should actually say. “Oh, uh, I—”

“Surprise, Iwa-chan!”

Suddenly, the players are standing shoulder to shoulder with Tobio, heads bowed slightly and gifts outstretched. Tobio quickly follows suit, quietly relieved that he hadn’t just ruined the surprise Oikawa had spent weeks keeping quiet.

There’s a heartbeat of silence before Iwaizumi shifts uncomfortably and looks over at Oikawa. He’s standing on a bench, phone out, probably recording what is happening. The smile on his face is vibrant and genuine, which makes Tobio think perhaps Iwaizumi knows a side of Oikawa no one else has ever seen. Iwaizumi blinks at Oikawa, face turning red as he swivels back to his teammates.

“Happy birthday, Iwaizumi-san!” they shout in unison.

Iwaizumi puts an arm across his chest, his other coming up to cradle his face and hide the embarrassed grin stretching over his features. He coughs a few times, and keeps glancing back towards Oikawa nervously. 

“Did you plan this, Trashykawa?” he grumbles.

Oikawa laughs and hops off the bench. He holds out a small wrapped gift for Iwaizumi, who takes it before slinging an arm around his friend’s neck. They grip each other tightly for a moment before Iwaizumi shoves Oikawa away, turning back to the group.

He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, still flushed. “C’mon guys, you didn’t have to do this, no matter what that idiot told you.”

“We wanted to,” Daichi reassures him. 

It’s not too long after that when Iwaizumi is struggling with packages and the team has dispersed to study or go to work. Tobio shifts from foot to foot nervously, watching Oikawa and Daichi tease Iwaizumi for his face (which hasn’t even begun to turn a normal color again).

“I can help carry things to your apartment,” Tobio says.

The three men turn to look at him, surprise evident in their expressions. Tobio feels his face grow warm as he hunches his shoulders.

“That would be really nice, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi says.

He nods and tries not to feel awkward as he loads up his arms and follows them out of the locker room. Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s apartment isn’t far away, and Tobio lets the Oikawa’s chattering make up for his lack of conversation.

“Tobio-chan, your gift looks like garbage,” Oikawa chirps as he sets it carefully on top of the pile.

“Shut up!” Tobio snaps. “I was tweaking it and ran out of time to buy wrapping.”

“You’d know what trash looks like, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. He fishes a beer out of their fridge and tosses it to Daichi. They take seats at the bar in the kitchen, eyeing Kageyama and Oikawa in the living room.

“Since it’s your birthday, I won’t reprimand you,” Oikawa says primly. He wanders over to them and takes the can out of Iwaizumi’s hand, sipping some.

“Bring it here, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi says warmly. “I’ll open it first.”

Tobio feels his face heat up. He scratches his arm awkwardly. “Y-You don’t have to.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.

He feels himself frowning uncomfortably, but brings the present over without any more fuss. Iwaizumi takes it carefully and tugs the poor excuse for wrapping off without any further ado.

Daichi and Oikawa lean over to see. Tobio stands across the island, watching them stare. He shifts his weight around. He clears his throat. No one says anything, and the room remains still. I should have just gotten him a fucking gift card, Tobio thinks. Fuck. This is awkward.

“It could, uh. Use more work,” Tobio says eventually. 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow and Daichi lets out a low whistle.

Iwaizumi’s eyes snap up, the intensity of them startling Tobio from his embarrassed downward spiral.

“You made this?” he asks seriously.

“Y-Yes.” Tobio nods, which he thinks is redundant.

“I mean, I know you do art. But this is.” Iwaizumi shakes his head slightly, his eyes falling back to the canvas. “Holy shit.”

It really isn’t that great, Tobio thinks. It’s of the volleyball net from the side, Iwaizumi mid-air about to spike while a ball is hurtling through the air, just released from Oikawa’s fingers. Oikawa is the only other person on the canvas, standing further back, lips parted in a shout. He painted in muted colors, only the two men and the volleyball portrayed with any vibrancy. It’s an image Tobio has seen many, many times, one he has come to respect as a teammate of theirs. 

“You sure you’re not an artist, Kageyama?” Daichi asks.

“I’m a setter,” Tobio grumbles. He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I dunno, I just thought…”

Before he knows what’s happening, Iwaizumi is around the island and throwing an arm around Tobio’s neck. Tobio feels himself blinking as Iwaizumi pats him on the back a little gruffly, before pulling away. They both clear their throats, a little pink-cheeked.

“Thank you, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi says. He awkwardly pats his shoulder again.

“Yeah, no problem.” Tobio blinks at him. “Um, glad. You like it.”

“Got something up your sleeve for Suga-chan?” Oikawa asks. His tone is off, maybe a little too serious to be aimed in Tobio’s direction.

Tobio nods, his eyes tracking Iwaizumi’s path back to his seat. “I’m just having a little trouble representing his hair correctly. The color, I mean.”

“Can’t wait to see it.” Daichi grins. “He’s gonna love it, you know.”

“Well, at least you won’t almost ruin the surprise like you did today, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa says. He levels a sour look in Tobio’s direction. 

Tobio wrinkles his nose but takes a seat. “I just thought it would be easier. I didn’t want to see coach.”

“When are you coming back?” Iwaizumi asks.

“He, uh, he didn’t give me a particular date. Just said to make sure my head is clear.” Tobio wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans absently.

“You have been a space cadet lately.” Oikawa rips the tab off Iwaizumi’s can and plays with it. “Care to share?”

Tobio’s brow creases. “Nothing’s going on, if that’s what you mean.”

“You really haven’t been yourself lately,” Daichi says gently.

Tobio tries not to flinch.

“It’s not like you to be unfocused at practice, Tobio-chan.”

“Just…stressed, I guess.” Tobio’s eyes drift to the side. Should he just excuse himself? This is starting to feel less like a birthday party and more like an intervention.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Iwaizumi says eventually. “But maybe it would help to talk it out.”

Tobio hums and looks down at his lap. “It’s really nothing, though. Just….stressed.”

“What does chibi-chan have to say?”

“About what?” Tobio scowls at the nickname, his brows furrowed so hard they ache as he glares at Oikawa.

“About your leave of absence from the team.”

“Oh.” Tobio feels himself relaxing. “I didn’t tell him.”

_“What?!”_

His eyes widen at the response. He stares at their surprised expressions, hands clenching into fists automatically. “Um?”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Oikawa demands. He leans over the table to get closer to Tobio’s face. “He’s your _boyfriend.”_

“I know that,” he snaps. “I just don’t want to worry him. Or have him, like, upset with me.”

“What do you mean, upset with you?” Oikawa asks.

“I—I just.” Tobio can feel his mind racing, and he’s losing the ability to send thoughts to his mouth. It feels horribly like when he shut down on the court. It feels strangely like when his father dropped him off at college and told him not to cause trouble for their family. “Don’t. Want to talk about this.”

“Kageyama—”

Tobio flinches away from Daichi’s hand, which was probably meant to calm him. The room goes silent as Tobio scrambles to his feet and bows deeply.

“Happy birthday, Iwaizumi-san,” he chokes out. “I’ll see you guys later.”

He all but runs to the hall, shoving his feet into shoes before yanking the door open. He hears Iwaizumi’s “Oikawa, _what the fuck?”_ before darting out and closing the door behind him.

Once outside the building, he presses the heels of his palms firmly into his eyes. He’d just made an utter ass of himself. On Iwaizumi’s birthday. Because he doesn’t know how to communicate with other people. 

Tobio suppresses a whimper. They’re probably talking right now about how fucking weird he is. And rude. And who fucking paints a portrait for someone they barely hang out with? It’s probably creepy. Shit.

He takes a few deep breaths before walking back towards his place. He feels like he’s been wound too tightly, and he starts jogging a little to relieve the pressure. He rubs his hand against his chest, trying to squash the hollow ache he feels there.

Well, he thinks. At least he doesn’t have to worry about having friends anymore.

 

Shouyo is a little nervous when he gets to Kageyama’s apartment, because, well, he has a plan.

He’s thought a lot about Kageyama’s weird reactions to stuff, and he’s talked about it some with Yamaguchi. And he’s concluded that he probably needs to be more of the hot headed idiot he knows he is and just talk to Kageyama outright.

His hands are sweaty as he knocks on the front door. When it opens, he’s face to face with a sternum clad in a dinosaur t-shirt. He raises his eyes and meets Tsukishima’s tired face.

“Thank God,” Tsukishima says. He moves to the side and sighs. “He’s been driving me fucking bananas for, like, a week already.”

Shouyo steps in and takes off his shoes, letting out a stilted “Sorry for the intrusion” as he does so.

As he moves towards Kageyama’s closed door, he’s startled as it’s yanked back to reveal a disheveled and wild-eyed version of his boyfriend.

“I fell asleep,” Kageyama barks. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Shouyo grins a little as he snuggles into Kageyama’s chest. “Tsukishima let me in.”

“Be gross in the privacy of your own room, please,” Tsukishima grumbles as he pushes past them. Shouyo doesn’t think there’s any real heat to his words, but Kageyama tenses anyway.

“Shut up,” Kageyama snarls. He steps back into his room anyway, dragging Shouyo with him.

Shouyo yelps as he’s propelled forward, the door slamming shut behind them. Then he yelps again, followed by a chuckle as Kageyama scoops him up and tosses him neatly on the bed. After a bit of squirming, Shouyo manages to flip onto his back, mid-laugh when Kageyama’s mouth descends on his.

The kiss is chaste but hard, pushing Shouyo back into sheets that smell like laundry detergent and Kageyama’s body wash. Shouyo lets out a surprised little grunt before Kageyama’s mouth is moving across his cheek, his jaw, moving lower so he can snuffle at the ticklish spot behind his ear.

“Hi,” Shouyo says, a bit breathily.

“Hi.” 

Kageyama’s voice is a soft little grumble in Shouyo’s ear that sends goosebumps erupting down his arms.

He presses a kiss to the side of Kageyama’s head. “I missed you.”

Shouyo feels Kageyama smile against his neck before he pulls back, his dark blue eyes sweeping over Shouyo’s face. After a moment, he reaches up and pushes the orange curls away from his forehead, leaning down and kissing the tanned skin there.

“I missed you, too,” Kageyama says.

They stay quiet for a while, Shouyo basking in Kageyama’s attention. It’s all innocent, the way his mouth brushes along Shouyo’s jaw, the tickling sensation of his large, hot palms on Shouyo’s arms, the hum he delivers when Shouyo drags his nails across his shoulders. Or, it _should_ be innocent. But Shouyo’s starved for affection, and they haven’t seen each other in over a week. The more Kageyama doesn’t take his touches any further, the hotter the blood in Shouyo’s veins. He finds himself squirming under Kageyama’s relentless care.

“You can put a movie on, if you want,” Kageyama rumbles quietly against the side of Shouyo’s face.

Oh, God. This is his opening. Shouyo swallows and tries not to be distracted when Kageyama pulls on his hair a little too hard as his fingers push through it. “Um, maybe we could just talk instead?”

“About what?” His voice is lazy, soft. It makes Shouyo more nervous.

“Us?” It comes out as a squeak.

Kageyama stills automatically, his shoulders tensing hard under Shouyo’s fingers. He pulls back, the familiar frown creasing his mouth, and the skin between his eyes.

“It—it’s nothing bad!” Shouyo says. He keeps his fingers curled in Kageyama’s shirt, an attempt to keep him moving away.

He pulls Shouyo’s hands off anyway, his movements gentle as he shifts back. Shouyo jerks up into a sitting position, hiding a little behind his knees.

“What do you want to talk about?” Kageyama asks.

“It’s not bad,” Shouyo repeats. He can feel himself start to sweat the longer Kageyama refuses to look at him. His jaw is working, the muscles tensing and relaxing, only to tense again. “I’m just a little confused.”

Kageyama nods and tugs on his bangs. He still won’t meet Shouyo’s eyes.

“Hey.” Shouyo unfolds himself and puts a hand on Kageyama’s arm. “Stop freaking out.”

“Doesn’t ‘we need to talk’ usually mean a breakup?”

Shouyo blinks. _“What?”_

Kageyama leans away from him, turning his face to hide it more. Shouyo launches himself onto Kageyama, smushing his face into the bed.

“I’m not breaking up with you! Stupid!”

Instead of fighting back, Kageyama simply shifts under Shouyo to get in a more comfortable position. He does turn his face back, but keeps an arm over it so Shouyo can’t see his eyes.

“Hey.” Shouyo tugs at the offending arm, gently. He can feel himself softening. “I’m not going to break up with you, Bakageyama. I promise.”

This doesn’t seem to be a good response. Kageyama’s lips press together so tightly that they turn white.

“Kageyama. I want to have sex with you.”

It takes a moment, but Kageyama’s arm lifts off his face. His cheeks are red, and he’s squinting up at Shouyo in disbelief. “What.”

“We’ve been dating for, like, two months now.” Shouyo feels his face flame from the base of his neck all the way up to his ears. He steels his resolve and powers through. “And I know you’re not a virgin. But you never want to take it any further.”

“How do you know I’m not a virgin?” he demands.

Shouyo pulls on his earing, avoiding the intensity of Kageyama’s gaze. “Daichi told Suga? Anyway that’s not—”

“Why are Daichi and Suga talking about that?”

“That’s not important right now!” Shouyo throws his hands in the air, moving off of Kageyama so he can sit. 

They’re quiet for a little, which gives Shouyo enough time to feel embarrassed. He lowers his hands to his lap, twisting them together. When it becomes apparent that the only response from Kageyama will be for him to sit up and fiddle with his hair, Shouyo forces himself to meet his boyfriend’s gaze. Kageyama always answers his questions, he reminds himself.

“I’ve come up with possible reasons why you don’t want to have sex,” Shouyo declares. He’s proud at how even his voice sounds, with how hard his heart is beating. Shit, this is really difficult to talk about, he thinks.

Kageyama looks surprised. But his face is open and honest. He doesn’t seem to be shutting down anymore.

“Did, um. Did something happen once? With someone else?”

Kageyama’s face crinkles. “What does that mean?”

“Did you, like, have a bad experience and that’s why you don’t wanna have sex?” Shouyo blurts.

Kageyama just looks more confused, shifting on the bed so that he’s facing Shouyo fully. “No. Nothing like that’s happened.”

“Oh, okay, good.” Shouyo almost sighs in relief, but he holds it in. He doesn’t want Kageyama to know how much he worried that had been the case. “So, are you asexual?”

“What’s that?” Kageyama’s brow crinkles further.

“It’s when you don’t have any sexual desire.” Shouyo says. “I think.”

“I’ve gotten boners around you,” Kageyama says dryly.

“Yeah, I know! But identifying as asexual doesn’t mean that your body doesn’t react. There’s just, like, a disconnect between your body and your desire. Like, you can get boners and have sex. You just don’t really want to.” Shouyo chews on his lip. “I think.”

Kageyama stares at him. “Why do you know all this stuff?” 

“I did my research,” Shouyo grumbles. He tugs on his earring a little too sharply, making himself wince.

Kageyama leans over and snags his wrist, pulling the offending hand away from Shouyo’s ear. “Because you think I’m asexual?”

“Well, it’s better than the alternative,” Shouyo says. He’s a little distracted by Kageyama’s long, cool hand smoothing his fist out, running his thumb over the pads of Shouyo’s fingers.

“What’s the alternative?”

Shouyo keeps his eyes on their hands, shame heating up his face. “That you just don’t want to have sex with me.”

“What?” Kageyama leans closer. “I didn’t hear you.”

“That it’s me you don’t want to have sex with,” Shouyo almost shouts.

Kageyama’s fingers tighten on Shouyo’s immediately, although he’d made no move to leave. They stay like that for a few moments, silent, Kageyama’s grip slowly turning the tips of Shouyo’s hands white.

Finally, Kageyama tugs Shouyo’s hands, grabbing him and pulling him close. Shouyo throws his arms around Kageyama’s shoulders. He wants the affection, craves it. He needs validation that everything’s okay. They hold each other fiercely, and in the back of Shouyo’s mind, he’s glad that he’s found someone who isn’t so gentle with him.

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama whispers into his neck. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. It’s not the truth, I…I want you. Very much.”

A warm shiver travels down Shouyo’s spine. He scrunches his eyes closed when they feel like they’re burning. He doesn’t want to make Kageyama feel bad by crying like a psycho.

“How could anyone not want you? You’re perfect,” Kageyama continues.

“Kageyama,” Shouyo whines.

Kageyama pulls away, a frown creasing his face once again. Shouyo feels a jolt of surprise that his intense blue eyes are shining more than usual, almost as if he’s close to crying himself.

“I’m serious,” Kageyama says. “From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. God, your running shorts are too short, and your _legs—”_

“Shut up!” Shouyo clamps his hands over Kageyama’s mouth, face red, even though he kind of wants to hear more. 

Kageyama pulls away, only to tackle Shouyo. They wrestle around for a moment, Kageyama grunting when one of Shouyo’s elbows catches him in the ribs, until they end up in a heap beside the bed. Kageyama pins Shouyo’s hands over his head, straddling his waist.

“Everything about you is perfect,” Kageyama pants.

Shouyo looks away as Kageyama’s grip on his wrists loosens. “You don’t have to keep saying that. I get it, okay?”

“You don’t, though. You really don’t.”

A shudder is drawn out of Shouyo as Kageyama’s hands trace lightly down his arms.

“I think you’re used to feeling small.” 

Kageyama’s voice is lower, quieter. Shouyo can’t help but look up into his face, though his eyes are tracking the movements of his hands as they wander over his shoulders.

“You are small,” Kageyama continues. “But you’re not fragile. You’re solid, all muscle. And you’re broad—broad shoulders, narrow waist. Your hips are wider than your waist, but still narrow enough for you to seem slight.”

He’s starting to dissolve under the weight of Kageyama’s words, and his hands. The breath puffs steadily from between his lips, his gaze fixed on the serious expression on Kageyama’s face.

“You’re gorgeous,” Kageyama says through a blush.

“So are you,” Shouyo says.

He sets one hand on Kageyama’s thigh and the other on his opposite hip. They smile shyly, tentatively at one another.

“So, when are we gonna bang?” Shouyo asks.

Kageyama looks disturbed for a moment before he sighs. He rubs a hand over his eyes, and Shouyo can see he’s fighting a grin. “Soon.”

“Not now?”

Kageyama smirks at Shouyo’s disappointment. “I didn’t want to do it when we were drunk, or I was upset. And I definitely don’t want to do it after you call it “banging.’”

“Aw, is Kageyama a romantic?”

His boyfriend scowls, moving off of Shouyo and back to the bed. “Shut up.”

“It’s cute,” Shouyo insists, scrabbling after him. “I like it.”

The TV gets turned on, and Kageyama flips through the xBox Netflix app, trying to find something they haven’t seen before. He ignores Shouyo’s attempts at cuddling, until Shouyo whines some more. He considers it a personal victory when Kageyama finally relents and lets him settle down in the space between his arm and his ribcage. He rests his head against Kageyama’s chest and listens to the steady beating of his heart.

“This is nice,” he sighs.

“Yeah.” Kageyama presses a kiss to his hair. “It is.”

They finally pick a TV show, and are quietly comfortable as the opening credits roll.

“Hey, Kageyama.”

“Yeah.”

“My birthday’s next week, you know.”

“I know.”

“Is birthday sex romantic?...OW, Bakageyama!”

“Shut up and watch the show, dumbass!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENDING AT A WEIRD SPOT AGAIN BUT WHATEVERRRR.
> 
> Thank you guys for being so patient with me. I've gotten a lot of wonderful support from you, and it really keeps me going. I almost abandoned this fic but!! I didn't!!
> 
> So, basically, my OCD has me put each chapter around the same page length in a word document. ~20 pages = 1 chapter. This one took so long because I was paralyzed with fear that the pacing is stupid, the character's emotions aren't coming through clear enough, that I spent too much time building up material for the next fics in the series (DaiSuga is next) instead of on these two lovebird knuckleheads. It's been a struggle, and I'm sorry to have kept you waiting<3
> 
> Updates will definitely be more regular from now on. I'd love to hear your feedback in the comments, or you can always come chat with me on tumblr!!
> 
> http://positivecomet.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are two more birthdays, and things are about to go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *writes nothing forever*  
> Also Me: *writes 20 pages in one go*
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The party isn’t even halfway over, but Shouyo thinks he can label it a giant success.

He stumbles to Kageyama, mouth stretched so wide with his smile that he’s sure it just looks like he’s baring his teeth. 

“What are you doing?” Kageyama asks. He reaches out and steadies Shouyo with two broad palms on his shoulders.

“Coming to see you!” Shouyo chirps. He leans into Kageyama, letting his knee brush the inside of Kageyama’s thigh. 

Kageyama hums before turning Shouyo around to face away from the bar. He reels him back in, arms winding around his shoulders, and Shouyo sighs at the feeling of Kageyama’s chin coming to rest on the top of his head.

The bar is lively around them. Suga’s laugh, high and melodic, can be heard over Oikawa’s giggles. Takeda is talking to Ukai, waving his hands in front of him in his enthusiasm, the other’s face turning pink from the sheer amount of alcohol they’ve tossed back. Asahi and Daichi are playing some sort of drinking game, and Yamaguchi is trying to convince Tsukishima to take shots with him.

“Everyone’s having fun,” Shouyo says quietly.

Kageyama squeezes him. “Of course they are. You did a good job.”

Shouyo feels his face warm, from more than the booze. He nudges Kageyama’s arm with his chin before nipping it. Kageyama squeezes him again.

“I’m really happy my friends like your friends,” Shouyo says.

There’s a short pause. “Yeah, uh. Me too.”

Oh, man, does Shouyo want to take a nosedive down that rabbit hole. Kageyama has been antsy and weird all night, coming up with excuses not to be around Daichi and Iwaizumi, sitting off by himself (not so unusual, if Daichi’s not around) instead of being awkwardly quiet next to his friends (more so unusual, since Daichi _is_ around).

But Shouyo won’t push. It’s Suga’s birthday, after all, and if Suga’s not Getting Involved in whatever had happened between the teammates, it probably means it wasn’t a big deal. And besides, Shouyo is tired of having to pull information out of Kageyama all the time.

Kageyama’s arm tighten around Shouyo for an instant, bringing his attention back to the party. “Suga’s on his way over.”

Shouyo spots the silver hair bouncing through the crowd toward them, grinning ear to ear, Daichi’s wrist grasped firmly in his hand as he drags him towards the bar.

“Daichi says I absolutely have to open Kageyama’s gift first!” Suga crows.

“Oh, okay!” Shouyo tries to bounce out of Kageyama’s arms, but they remain steadfast around him.

“But he doesn’t even know what it is,” Kageyama says.

“Expectations are high after Iwa-chan’s birthday, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa slouches against the bar next to them and flicks his bangs out of his eyes.

Kageyama is quiet, but Shouyo can feel how tense he’s become. He’s confused—is it the attention? Or the subject? Something definitely doesn’t feel right, but Shouyo knows he’s out of the loop on something, and he’s also too drunk to try and find out right now.

Instead, he wriggles himself around so he’s facing Kageyama, who lets him go to accommodate the movement. Shouyo plants his palms on Kageyama’s thighs and reaches up to kiss the side of his boyfriend’s face. Kageyama leans into the movement a little, and Shouyo takes the opportunity to mumble, “Relax, Suga’s gonna love it. I promise. Can I go grab it for him?”

Kageyama lets out a breath and nods. Shouyo grins at him, kissing the blush on Kageyama’s face before he dashes away to the gift pile. He knows exactly the one, having had wrapped the damn thing himself (“This man is like my _brother,_ Kageyama, you can’t wrap it in newspaper like that! It looks terrible!” “Then do it yourself, dumbass!”).

When he spins back around, the group has mostly migrated over to him. He grins, presenting the wrapped up square to Suga like one would to a king. He gets down on one knee and bows his head and everything.

Suga laughs. “Why, thank you, peasant,” he says.

Shouyo grins and looks for Kageyama as Suga turns to the others and tears into the wrapping. He’d slid from the barstool, but is still hanging out behind the crowd. His eyes lock onto Shouyo’s, and he looks upset. Embarrassed, maybe. Shouyo feels that impulse to put his arms around him; that ache deep in his chest to comfort.

But Suga’s already thrown the wrapping paper on the floor, ignoring Daichi’s eye rolling, and is already tearing up.

“Oh, my God. Shou, look.”

Shouyo steps forward and slings an arm around Suga’s neck, pulling him a little off balance. “I know! I saw it as it was coming together.”

Suga is in white robes, his hair ruffling in an invisible breeze, his hands are pressed together as if he’d just been clapping. His eyes are closed, the way they do when he’s really laughing, and his nose is wrinkled a little, the way it is when he bursts into laughter.

Asahi is dressed in animal skins, his hair down and wavy around his face. He’s smirking, as if he’d just overheard a great joke. His eyes are bright and reflective, calm though they wrinkle a little in the corners with his happiness.

Yamaguchi’s hair is wet and plastered to his forehead, adorned by a headband of iridescent shells. His skin is shiny, and drops of water cling to it. His freckles are all a lighter shade, more like wet sand than normal, and his face is split in a wide grin, wider on one side of his mouth than the other—like when he’s at his happiest—his eyes almost crinkled shut.

And then there’s Shouyo. He’s shining as if lit from the inside out, and his curls end in literal flames. He’s all golden hues and vibrancy, his toothy smile at its widest. His eyes are also shut, but squeezed shut, like he can’t handle the amount of happiness he’s experiencing.

Suga pushes through the crowd, dragging Kageyama in for a tight hug. Shouyo can tell he’s startled, his dark blue eyes wide, and his hands hovering over Suga’s shoulders for a moment before patting him awkwardly. From the way Kageyama’s eyes shift, and the way his head nods slightly, Shouyo can tell Suga is saying something to him.

“He’s really talented,” Yamaguchi says. He nudges Shouyo’s elbow with his own.

“I know, right?” Shouyo can feel himself beaming. “I told him ages ago about that conversation we had, and he just decided to do it one day.”

“It wasn’t one day. He whined about it for literal weeks.” Tsukishima sighs and finishes off a beer. “He’s the worst.”

“He’s not!” Shouyo gripes.

Tsukishima ignores him. 

The three of them watch as Iwaizumi and Daichi look over the painting, nudging Kageyama and gesturing towards the artwork. The stiffness is back in Kageyama’s features, the pinched way he holds his mouth. That ache is back in Shouyo’s chest, but this time, it’s a little more bitter. Why won’t you let me help you? he wonders.

“What’s up with that?” Yamaguchi asks.

Damn Yama’s perceptiveness. “I dunno. I’m hoping I’ll get filled in at some point.”

Shouyo can see Yamaguchi side-eye him. “You don’t ever try to placate anyone, you hothead. So why are you doing it in your relationship?”

Shouyo’s head whips around so hard he swears he almost cracks his neck. Yamaguchi seems immediately chastised, raising his hands in the air as a sign of surrender.

“I’m sorry, Shouyo, that was a dick thing to say. I don’t really know what’s going on, and you totally didn’t ask for any advice, and, God, I don’t think I have a filter sometimes—”

“No, it’s fine.” Shouyo’s voice sounds strange to his own ears, hollow from the way Yamaguchi’s words are banging around in his head. “You’re right, I guess. We never really hash anything out and I…well, I guess it’s just easier not to make him mad.”

“Are you sure he could get mad at you? He thinks the sunshine comes out your fucking ass.”

Shouyo ignores Tsukishima and fiddles with his earring.

Kageyama looks up then, his dark, unhappy gaze locking with Shouyo’s. His hand lifts, his wave as small as his smile, and Shouyo’s heart is a heavy thud in his chest. He gives a small smile and wave of his own, resisting the urge to bury his face in Yamaguchi’s neck, or have a hundred more drinks.

“I thought we were taking a step forward,” he says, so softly he’s not sure Yamaguchi hears him. “But maybe it was just five steps back.”

 

Tobio has never known what people mean when they say ‘it about put me over the edge.’

He’s quickly coming to a place of understanding.

Something changed, at Suga’s party. Tobio isn’t sure what he did—was it the stubborn refusal to have Suga open his gift? Did he have a problem with the artwork?—but all he knows is that Hinata found little reasons to slip away from him until the end of the night, where he gave Tobio a quick kiss on the cheek before scampering home, dragging Yamaguchi behind him.

Then a few days go by, and Hinata’s texts are few and far between. The few times Tobio tries to call him, he only gets his voicemail, and a few texts saying he’s too tired and that they’ll talk soon.

Daichi texts him a few times and asks him to coffee, but Tobio lies about some school stuff and seals himself in his room. He’s still not sure where he stands with his teammates. They went out of their way to compliment him at Suga’s party, but Tobio feels like they’re probably still mad at him for ruining Iwaizumi’s birthday. He doesn’t blame them, but he doesn’t have the emotional capacity right now to breech that subject with them.

He’s called into the coach’s office, but after a fifteen minute conversation, the coach tells him it’s okay for him to take a little more time off. Tobio promises him that he’s been keeping up his own workout routine, and that he’s been watching a lot of videos of their opponents, to stay in the loop, but the coach just gives him a sympathetic smile.

“If you’re going through a tough time, Kageyama-kun, it’s probably best that you focus on yourself right now. Your mental health is just as important as your physical health,” he says.

Tobio is afraid to admit that he’s nearing that “edge” people talk about. He’s not sure what that will mean for him, but he hopes he can figure out a way to backpedal. Soon.

He just wants everything to go back to the way it was in the beginning. Simple. Uncomplicated. In Control.

 

Hinata’s birthday party is small, and intimate.

Tobio’s squished between the couch arm and Yamaguchi, who’s being squished by Tsukishima, who’s being _really_ squished by Asahi. Daichi has the arm chair, with Suga perched on his lap.

Hinata is bounding around, all smiles and teeth, making sure everyone has enough beer, and eating cake with his fingers.

“Take-chan really went all out with this cake,” he garbles. “It’s even better than last year.”

“Well, now he knows that you don’t like chocolate,” Yamaguchi reasons.

There’s a knock on the door, and Hinata races to answer it, throwing it open with an exuberant squawk. In a flash, he returns to his living room. He’s almost vibrating with excitement as he beams.

“Iwaizumi and Oikawa are here!” he shouts.

Tobio tenses against his will. He can feel Yamaguchi’s eyes on him, for just a second, before he looks down into his beer cup and forces himself to relax.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Iwaizumi says as he steps behind Hinata.

“I know we weren’t invited,” Oikawa chirps. “But I had to wish our little chibi-chan a happy birthday in person.”

Hinata throws his arms around both of their necks, dragging them down with enough force that their temples smack together. “Stay, please stay?” he whines.

Tobio tries not to be jealous—hurt?—that Hinata is touching his teammates more than he’s touched Tobio since before Suga opened his gift. 

Oikawa grins and hugs Hinata back with one arm. “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

As Hinata releases them and crows, “It is, it is!” Tobio regards the openness on Oikawa’s face. He’s mentioned before how much he liked Hinata, but Tobio could never tell if he were teasing or not. It’s part of the reason he hates talking to Oikawa—he never knows what’s true and what isn’t.

This seems true, though, his affection for Tobio’s boyfriend. And the concern in his eyes when he catches Tobio staring seems true, too. Tobio averts his gaze and tries to take a deep, quiet breath.

“Hey, Tobio-chan!”

Tobio tries really hard not to wince.

Oikawa settles on the arm of the couch as Hinata grills Iwaizumi about something volleyball related. Yamaguchi shifts, his thigh pressed fully against Tobio’s. A drop of sweat runs down Tobio’s neck. Is he still breathing? He feels trapped.

“How are you?” Oikawa continues, quietly. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“He’s holed up in his room 98% of the time,” Tsukishima supplies. “The only time he leaves is to see Hinata.”

There’s a moment of silence long enough that Tobio feels a cold weight settle in his chest. He clears his throat and stands up, gesturing to his seat.

“Here, Oikawa,” he says.

Oikawa makes some sort of noise in the back of his throat, maybe surprise or dissent, but Tobio’s already moving, making his way to the kitchen. He doesn’t meet Hianta’s eyes as he brushes past, but he does hear a stutter in Hinata’s speech.

The kitchen is quieter. Tobio dumps his beer in the sink and sets the cup carefully inside. He braces his hands against the cool metal and tries to breathe evenly. Pull yourself together, he thinks. There’s no reason to get so upset. 

He senses Hinata’s presence before he actually makes a sound. “You okay?”

Tobio releases a breath and turns around. Hinata is grabbing another piece of cake in his hands, but his eyes are trained on Tobio. He can feel himself flush a little under that gaze, the way it studies every inch of his face as if he can find answers there.

“I’m fine,” Tobio repeats.

Hinata pauses before nodding slowly. Tobio crosses over to the counter, and they stand side by side as Hinata licks at the cake frosting.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you?” Hinata says.

His voice is uncharacteristically subdued, and it breaks Tobio’s heart a little. “I’m just stressed out about school and stuff. It’s not something you should worry about.”

“I worry about _you,_ " Hinata says. “That’s kind of my job, you know, as your boyfriend.”

That makes Tobio feel nervous. He shifts his weight with a little hum, rubbing the back of his neck absently.

“Anyway, I was thinking maybe it would be good for us to spend some quality time together,” Hinata says. He abandons the now-naked-cake-piece on a plate and picks up another. “This Thursday Yamaguchi is going away for the night, and I was wondering if you’d want to spend the night here. With me.”

The implication makes Tobio’s blood race under his skin. There’s a slight nauseous feeling, but it’s completely overshadowed by the desire to hold and touch and bask in the warm glow that is this man beside him.

“I’ll be here,” Tobio says.

Hinata glances at him curiously. “Will practice be a problem?”

“I’ll be here,” Tobio says, a little more forcefully.

The corners of Hinata’s mouth quirk, and he takes the icing off the cake slice with a quick swipe of his tongue. Tobio feels himself smiling a little. The rush of affection is tainted a little by desperation, but he tries to ignore it.

“Hey.”

Hinata looks up at him curiously.

“Can I kiss you?” Tobio asks.

His eyes are soft and bright and maybe a little sad. “Yeah, of course you can.”

Hinata turns so that they’re chest to chest, raising one hand to loop around Tobio’s neck. Tobio threads his fingers through his bright orange strands, lowering his mouth to Hinata’s without any hesitation. The kiss tastes like frosting and beer. Hinata makes a happy little noise, pressing into it, his nose nudging Tobio’s cheek with the movement.

The moment, the kiss, is so soft and sweet that Tobio could cry. Instead, he draws back a little to brush his lips over the rounded skin of Hinata’s cheek.

“Happy birthday, Shouyo,” Tobio murmurs. 

Hinata’s breathing hitches, and then he laughs, pulling Tobio’s mouth back to his own as if there’s no other place he’d rather be.

 

Even though the sleepover was his idea, Shouyo is so nervous he could throw up by the time Kageyama arrives.

He knows he’s been avoiding Kageyama, but he can’t really help it. After what Yamaguchi said at Suga’s party, he’s just been really _bothered._ Like, he is totally not the kind of person to not get what he wants.

And he really, really wants Kageyama, he thinks, his bare feet pattering on the hardwood floor as he paces. He wants the grumpy demeanor and silly arguments; the volleyball obsession and his taste in children’s films. He wants the gentle kisses and hesitant touches, and casual glances that light Shouyo from the inside out. 

He also wants that hard press of thumbs into his skin, the teeth biting into his kiss-swollen bottom lip, the noise Kageyama makes as he rolls his hips down onto Shouyo’s.

Shouyo yanks on his earring, turning and darting from one room to another. That’s what this night is for, right? He finally gonna do the do with his hot, tall, electric blue boyfriend and put all these insecurities and hurts to rest once and for all.

He spent most of the day cleaning his room, and then the living room, and then the rest of the apartment. Yamaguchi was a really tidy person anyway, but Shouyo couldn’t quell his nervous energy even after a run _and_ a work out at the gym. Especially not after all three of his best friends texted with various versions of “good luck” (Asahi: “Be safe and have fun.” Suga: “Let me know how it goes (but not too many details, for the love of God)!!!!!” Yamaguchi: U BETTER TELL ME EVRYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1”). 

He’s not surprised when the knock on the front door sounds, but it feels like he’s been electrocuted nonetheless. He skids into the hall, patting his hair and then wiping his sweaty palms on his sweatpants before taking a deep breath. He holds it for a second. Lets it out.

“Okay,” he whispers. His heart is beating so hard that his neighbors probably think he’s throwing a rager.

He yanks open the door, and Kageyama looks startled.

They pause.

“Hi,” Kageyama says.

“Hi!” Shouyo’s voice is too high to be normal. He shoves that thought aside and pulls Kageyama in by the front of his shirt. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Kageyama toes off his shoes, following Shouyo into the living room. “Sure.”

“What do you wanna watch?” Shouyo bounces on the couch, grabbing Kageyama’s hand when he comes into range.

“You can pick.” 

Kageyama still has that bewildered look on his face. His backpack falls to the ground with a thump, and Shouyo’s heart actually _stops beating_ when he realizes that Kageyama’s probably got pajamas and next-day clothes and a fucking _toothbrush_ in there.

Oh man. It’s actually happening.

He launches himself onto Kageyama, ignoring the distressed sound that’s shoved out of the taller man’s lungs at the movement.

“I want you to pick,” Shouyo says into the skin of his boyfriend’s neck. I really don’t fucking care what we watch, he wants to say instead.

There’s a pause. “You never really like what I put on.”

“Ghibli is fine,” Shouyo assures him. He wiggles a little to get comfortable. “Just not Totoro again. It sucks.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“It _doesn’t._ ”

Shouyo pulls back and gives him a sour look. “You’re saying that out of nostalgia. The movie is totally boring.”

Kageyama looks disgruntled, but opts not to fight back. Instead, he pinches Shouyo’s cheek gently and grabs the Xbox controller from the floor with the other hand.

“Fine. But don’t complain about the selection,” he warns.

Shouyo presses his face back into Kageyama’s shirt. He smells like body wash and a little like sweat from the overly hot day. It’s comforting, and just a little arousing. He grins.

 

Kageyama ends up picking Kiki, which isn’t the worst one. Shouyo really doesn’t understand the fascination with these movies, but he also didn’t grow up with them. Or like to draw and paint, which he suspects might be another reason for Kageyama’s obsession with Miyazaki.

They’ve settled into a comfortable position: Shouyo’s belly-down on Kageyama, who has one leg bent and pinned to the back of the couch by Shouyo’s side, and his other stretched out, his heel just touching the floor. Shouyo’s more occupied with the way Kageyama’s chest expands and deflates with every breath, the way his heart beats steadily under his cheek. Kageyama’s got one hand behind his head. The other is splayed out on Shouyo’s shoulders, his thumb tracing lazy circles across his shirt.

They’ve been soft and quiet for so long, that Shouyo’s anxiety about tonight has almost completely dissipated. Now, instead of being scared, he’s feeling…excited. Anticipation.

Hungry.

He feels his chin tip up, until he’s looking at Kageyama’s profile, lighted only by the glow of the television. The heat he feels buzzes a little louder in his veins looking at the crisp cut of his jaw, the harsh shadows under his cheekbones, the rounded jut of his nose. The unhuman length of his eyelashes, fluttering every so often against his skin.

Kageyama glances down at him, away, and back again. Shouyo almost holds his breath, an instinct from that intensity in those warm blue eyes as they lock so solidly with his own.  
“You’re not watching the movie,” Kageyama says. His voice is quiet, and Shouyo can feel the rumble of it under his hands, his stomach.

“No,” Shouyo agrees.

He digs his toes into the couch and uses them as leverage to bring his lips to Kageyama’s. His eyes slide closed as Kageyama’s hand lifts from his back, resettling on the top of his spine to drag him closer. Shouyo tries to stop the little noise that bubbles out of him when Kageyama tilts his head, opening his mouth to suck gently at Shouyo’s, but he’s fairly certain the sound escapes him and gets lost somewhere in the thin cracks between their bodies.

Kageyama kisses him like it’s easy, like he’s been doing it for years. He’s gentle and takes his time, not enticed by the way Shouyo nips at his lips, not phased by the nails raked across his neck, right at the hairline.

It’s frustrating. Shouyo wants to _get going already,_ but he’s also more than a little excited by this. It’s almost like a game. The What Turns On Kageyama’s Horny Beast Mode Game.

Eventually, when their lips are swollen, soft, and absolutely drenched in each other’s saliva, Shouyo manages to get his hands underneath them, slipping under Kageyama’s shirt with a little difficulty.

The hitch in Kageyama’s breathing does not go unnoticed, though Shouyo acts like it does. He drags his fingertips across the smooth skin of Kageyama’s stomach, reveling in the flexing and relaxing of his abs as his touch wanders across them. He works his way up to Kageyama’s chest, teasing through the small patch of dark hair there.

Kageyama has to know what’s coming next, if the way he’s clutching Shouyo’s shoulders has anything to say.

When Shouyo drags his thumbs across Kageyama’s nipples, the noise that’s wrenched from him is absolutely animalistic—somewhere between a shout and a growl.

Shouyo has never gotten so hard so instantly and _he loves it._

This was also apparently the switch he was looking for, because Kageyama jerks upright, dragging Shouyo with him. It takes a little more maneuvering, but Shouyo ends up with his knees on either side of Kageyama’s thighs, Kageyama’s shirt tugged off and thrown somewhere, and his teeth burying into the skin of Kageyama’s neck.

Kageyama makes that same noise of desperation, thrusting his hips up as much as he can while he’s pinned under Shouyo’s body. It doesn’t really do much for him, but Shouyo appreciates the sentiment—he feels himself getting harder and harder by the second, grinding down on Kageyama’s erection, pressing his own into the toned muscle of Kageyama’s stomach.

Soon they’ve dissolved into biting and scratching and licking, those gentle kisses gone and forgotten. Shouyo tries to babble for a while— _fuck, you feel so good, want you, yes, like that_ —but his speech soon consists of nothing but whines and groans, and the damp heat of his own breathing on Kageyama’s darker skin. His shirt makes its way off, landing wherever Kageyama’s had before.

Right around the time he’s drawing Kageyama’s nipple into his mouth is when he thinks, We totally need to go to my room. Kageyama arches his back, his groan so fierce and guttural that it makes Shouyo’s cock weep, and spreading his fingers wide over Shouyo’s back, pressing their bodies closer together.

If we don’t go to my room now, he’ll have to fuck me on this couch, Shouyo thinks. It’s a hazy thought, coming from somewhere deep in his brain that isn’t absolutely tainted with everything Kageyama.

He’s just about to voice his concerns—or attempt to, at least—when Kageyama pulls back a little and says, “Wait.”

Shouyo sits up, chest heaving. “Why?”

Kageyama’s face is flushed, his lips obscenely wet and red for only having kissed Shouyo’s mouth. His hair is in absolute disarray, and there’s a bruise developing rapidly at the hollow of his throat.

“I just need a minute,” he says finally.

“Why?” Shouyo repeats. “Were you gonna come?”

Kageyama’s lips purse, and his eyes become a little clearer. Shouyo grins, huffs a laugh.

“That’s okay, you know,” he says, twisting his fingers through Kageyama’s hair. “We have all night.”

He leans down to kiss Kageyama again, but his lips collide with a cheek instead of lips as Kageyama turns his face away. Shouyo sits back, a frown creasing his mouth and brow.

“Don’t be mad. I was just teasing,” he says. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Even though he isn’t, he realizes. He’s not sorry he teased Kageyama, because they’re always teasing each other. Sex should be no different. But as he looks at Kageyama’s stiff posture, he realizes that Kageyama is shutting down _again,_ and that Shouyo’s doing nothing but placating him.

The silence between them grows and grows. Shouyo lets his arms slip from Kageyama, coming to hug around himself, as he looks in the other direction. His bitterness rises like bile in his throat.

“If you’re worried about who’s gonna bottom, I figured it would be me,” he says. “But I didn’t really think we’d go that far tonight. I mean, I hoped, but I wasn’t going to push you or anything.”

Kageyama says nothing. Shouyo doesn’t attempt to look at him, but the weight of Kageyama’s hands on his thighs is suddenly wrong. He moves off of Kageyama’s lap, a little hurt when those hands don’t try to make him stay.

The movie is still playing, though it’s towards the end, now. Shouyo watches it for a moment before moving farther away from Kageyama on the couch.

“I don’t care if you’re not ready to have sex,” he says carefully. He tries to keep the anger out of his voice, but he knows it’s not working because he’s _hurt._ “But I just want to know why.”

His tightens his arms further around himself and risks a glance at Kageyama. They lock gazes, and Kageyama’s is bright and sad. Shouyo watches as he brings the back of a shaky hand to his mouth and rubs absently.

“Are you asexual?” Shouyo asks.

Kageyama looks confused, but shakes his head.

“And you’ve never had a trauma about this?”

Another head shake, and more confusion.

“Then what is it?” Shouyo pushes himself off the couch and hunts around for his shirt. “Because you’re giving me really mixed signals, Kageyama, and it’s really not fucking fair to me.”

As he pulls his shirt on, he sees Kageyama leans forward and press the heels of his hands to his eyes. Shouyo can feel himself shaking, and he’s not sure if it’s the switch from desire to anger, or the horrible feeling of despair clawing at his gut.

He takes a breath before going to stand over Kageyama’s form. His voice is a little more even as he asks, “Is there someone else?”

Kageyama’s head snaps up so quickly that Shouyo thinks he hears it crack. _"What!?”_

“Is there someone else or not?” Shouyo’s voice rises without his permission. He hadn’t even really thought of it, not seriously, but it suddenly seemed like a very real possibility.

“Of course not!” Kageyama’s eyes take on a manic glow, and he straightens up to meet Shouyo’s gaze a little better.

“So you just don’t want me, is that it?” Shouyo’s eyes burn so intensely that Kageyama’s horrified expression blurs until it disappears altogether. He laughs a little, but it sounds hysterical, even to him. “I’m just someone you keep around because you’re lonely, or makes you feel good, or whatever, but you’re not, like, _serious_ about me.”

“Shouyo, _no—_ ”

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s shoved Kageyama back against the couch, his nails digging sharply into the skin of Kageyama’s bare shoulder.

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” he snarls. 

There’s a stillness so absolute that Shouyo wonders vaguely if this is happening at all, or if it’s just some horrible nightmare. But the tears finally begin to fall, clearing his gaze a little, and he watches whatever was lighting Kageyama’s gaze slowly bleed from his eyes.

“Am I a joke to you?” Shouyo’s voice is so broken and wounded, he wouldn’t think it was him speaking if he didn’t feel his lips moving. “Say something. Say _anything._ ”

Kageyama’s lips part automatically, and Shouyo thinks that maybe this is their breakthrough. Maybe they’re going to take ten leaps forward this time, and he can feel like there was a reason for all this pain in the first place. It’s a misunderstanding. It has to be, he begs silently.

But Kageyama stays quiet. After another few heartbeats, his gaze lowers to his hands.

All the anger drains out of Shouyo. He wipes his face with his arm and pulls back. “Then that’s on you,” he says.

He feels Kageyama’s eyes on him as he pockets his hands and takes a few steps toward the hallway. “Stay here or go home, I don’t really care. But this is enough. I’ve had enough.”

He shoves his feet into his shoes and yanks open the door. “Don’t be here when I get home tomorrow.”

Shouyo shuts the door quietly. He doesn’t feel the breaking of his heart until he’s outside, the sticky night air uncomfortable on his drying cheeks, realizing that Kageyama had not made a single move to stop him from leaving.

 

_Bang bang bang!_

He’s just about to slam his fist on Suga’s door for a third round when it’s yanked open with a frustrated huff. Suga’s look of annoyance melts into surprise, then concern, as he takes in Shouyo’s face.

He stopped crying long before he’d made it here, but his gaze slips to the side anyway. He sniffs and rubs the back of his neck.

“I thought—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” Shouyo interrupts.

Suga pauses, but Shouyo doesn’t have time to wonder why before Suga’s opening the door wider, stepping aside. Shouyo mumbles a thanks as he passes him, kicking off his shoes without looking down.

“Could I make some tea?” Shouyo asks.

Suga follows him to the kitchenette. “Shou, you—”

“Hey, Hinata!”

Shouyo’s gaze snaps up, and Daichi emerges from Suga’s bedroom. He’s wearing a pair of Suga’s pajama bottoms that Hinata got him for Christmas—there are little bananas all over it—and one of Suga’s shirts.

One glance at Suga, and Shouyo can see the messy hair, the bitten mouth, the heated glow still clinging to his pale face. The reason he took so long to answer the door.

“Hey, Daichi,” Shouyo calls weakly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

As Daichi moves closer, his expression shifts into something more like concern. “Nah, it’s all good. I thought—”

Shouyo turns on heel and tries to quell the bubble of panic pressing out from between his lungs. He heads to the front door, crouches down to shove his feet back in his shoes. They aren’t going on easily, so he yanks at the laces.

“I’ll go I just—”

“Shouyo.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and he swallows loudly enough that he knows Suga hears it. His hands shake uselessly over his shoes. 

Shouyo feels Suga crouch behind him, anticipates the gentle hand that comes to rest between his shoulder blades. He screws his eyes tighter, fighting off a whimper at the thought that this is not the hand he wants to feel, the boy he wants to comfort him.

“Shouyo.” Suga’s tone is even gentler, something Shouyo never thought possible.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying again until he tries to speak. He makes some sort of choked sound, turning and diving into the safety of his oldest and dearest friend’s arms. He hears Daichi’s voice murmur “I’ll make that tea” before Suga presses his face to Shouyo’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Shouyo chokes out. 

Suga shushes him, but Shouyo’s not really sure who he’s talking to anymore. 

“I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have a rant for you this time--I'd appreciate all the feedback you can give me in the comments!
> 
> Next chapter is the last one (probably?) and then we're off to Suga and Daichi's story for part two! HOLY CRAP.
> 
> Also, you can always come and nerd out with me here: http://positivecomet.tumblr.com/


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kageyama Gets Himself Together and Hinata makes a tough choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  
> I love you directly without problems or pride:  
> I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,  
> except in this form in which I am not nor are you,  
> so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,  
> so close that your eyes close with my dreams.  
> ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII

Shouyo’s eyes are scratchy and sore by the time Suga wrestles him into pajamas and buries him in blankets. He snuggles further into Suga’s bed and listens to the low murmurs of Suga and Daichi for a while. He tries not to think about the possibility of Daichi being mad that Shouyo interrupted their date. He tries not to feel the yawning openness of his chest, where his heart used to feel so full.

The light in the hall shifts slightly, redirecting his attention. Shouyo clears his throat when Suga reappears in the bedroom doorway. “This bed better not be contaminated.”

Suga grins and crosses the room, crawling in next to Shouyo. “There’s a reason I didn’t put you on the couch, Sunshine.”

They laugh quietly while Suga nudges Shouyo towards the wall, wrapping his arms around his middle and curling around him securely. They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Shouyo trying not to fidget.

“Daichi’s not gonna be mad that you’re spooning another man in your bed, is he?” Shouyo asks after a while.

“Shut up.” Suga noses the back of Shouyo’s head. “Daichi loves you.”

“Not more than he loves you.”

Suga tenses behind Shouyo, causing the latter’s brow to crease. He squirms, trying to turn so he can see Suga’s expression, but Suga’s arms keep him firmly in place.

“It’s okay to be happy, Suga,” Shouyo says.

Suga lets out a noncommittal hum, which makes Shouyo huff and roll his eyes. 

“Where did Daichi go, anyway?”

“He went to check on Kageyama-kun,” Suga says after a moment.

This time, it’s Shouyo who feels his muscles locking up. Suga gives him a friendly squeeze. Shouyo tries to release the tension in his chest on an exhale.

“Are you mad?”

Shouyo shakes his head. “I mean, they’re friends, so.”

“You sound kind of mad,” Suga says, not unkindly.

Shouyo rolls that thought around in his mind. Finally, he says, “I’m not mad at Daichi.”

Suga nods, his breath warm on Shouyo’s neck. “Can I ask what happened?”

Shouyo swallows the lump in his throat and snuggles back against Suga. He takes a deep breath that rattles through his chest. He doesn’t feel like he could possibly have any more energy to cry, but his eyes burn fiercely. “He—”

“Shhh.” Suga’s arms squeeze tighter, keeping Shouyo together at the seams. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it now.”

Shouyo can’t find it in him to thank his friend, but he thinks Suga feels it anyway in the grateful relaxing of his body. They fall asleep tangled together, the way they used to at sleepovers when they were younger.

 

The first day after The Fight, Shouyo lets Suga fuss over him all day. He gets all his favorite foods, they watch all his favorite shows, and eventually Yamaguchi and Asahi get off work and bring Shouyo’s favorite liquor with them.

Suga and Asahi lounge on the couch, pink-cheeked, watching Yama and Shouyo tussle on the floor. A movie plays forgotten in the background, overridden by the giggles the boys on the floor are releasing. Yama’s fingers stop digging in Shouyo’s sides long enough to tangle in his unruly curls.

“You need a haircut,” Yama hums.

“Says the guy who can put his in a ponytail.” Shouyo grins and laughs as Yama hauls his face closer and presses wet kisses all over the crests of his cheeks.

“I love your laugh, Shou.” Suga hums and pushes his feet into Asahi’s lap.

“I love Asahi’s laugh,” Shouyo warbles around Yamaguchi’s kisses. “The one you make when you’re caught off guard by something funny.”

“Oohh, that’s a good one,” Yama agrees. He presses his face into Shouyo’s neck, sinking his teeth into the skin there.

Shouyo squeals and tries to squirm away, but Yamaguchi pins Shouyo’s small frame under his lankier one.

“I love the fact that Suga and Yamaguchi are always all over Hinata, and no one ever questions it,” Asahi muses.

Suga waves the thought away. “We’re just extra close friends. It’s like skinship.”

“Isn’t skinship about mothers and babies?” Shouyo wonders.

“Well, that would make sense with you and Suga,” Yama whispers.

Suga pelts him with a couch pillow, and Shouyo giggles.

“How did he even hear that?” Yamaguchi grumbles.

“Suga hears all, sees all, knows all,” Asahi says.

“Especially at work,” Yamaguchi says, his body shaking against Shouyo’s as he laughs. Suga’s foot strikes out, nailing Yama in the back of a thigh, but his laughing only gets louder.

“What’s that mean?” Shouyo demands.

Suga picks up the bottle of liquor and takes a long swig of it. He ignores Shouyo’s question and passes the bottle to Asahi.

“Suga!” Shouyo whines. He pushes at Yamaguchi’s body, and Yamaguchi shifts and slides to the side, reaching out to Asahi for the bottle.

“I heard something I wasn’t supposed to,” Suga says at the ceiling. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” Yamaguchi giggles. “He heard Takeda-san doing special favors for your boooossssss. Special _sexy_ favors.”

There’s a split second of silence. Then Asahi let’s out a groan and Shouyo starts shrieking.

“OH MY GOD.”

“Please don’t make me relive it,” Suga complains.

“I bet it was kind of hot,” Asahi says, not so quietly.

Yamaguchi curls up into himself with the force of his laughter.

“It kind of was.” Suga sighs and puts his hands over his face in defeat. “Jesus Christ.”

“Asahi! Suga! You perverts!” Shouyo shouts.

“I…can’t…” Yamaguchi gasps, clutching his heaving chest and crying from lack of air.

“It’s not funny, Yama!” Shouyo howls. He grabs at Yamaguchi’s clothes and shakes him, causing Suga to snort-laugh.

Eventually they all settle down, Shouyo draping himself over Yama and taking a few sips from the liquor bottle. Yamaguchi runs his fingers over the bare backs of Shouyo’s thighs, tapping every once in a while over the freckles there.

“Kageyama is an idiot for letting you go,” Yama says after a while.

Shouyo squints at the label of the bottle, ignoring when Yamaguchi pinches him a little to get a reaction.

“We’ll listen if you need us to,” Asahi says.

Shouyo sighs and rolls off of Yamaguchi, until he’s flat on his back, arms and legs spread out like a starfish, bleary eyes aimed at the ceiling.

“It’s stupid,” he says.

“Nothing that affects you this much can be stupid,” Suga says.

Shouyo thinks about this and lets the buzz through his veins relax him. They lapse into a comfortable silence, but it feels open, inviting.

“He doesn’t want to do more than kissing but he won’t tell me why,” Shouyo summarizes. “He keeps giving me the green light and then slamming the door in my face. So I demanded to know why.”

“That’s not unreasonable,” Asahi says. “I think that would be really hurtful. Not feeling wanted like that.”

“It is,” Shouyo whispers. “I accused him of cheating, I think.”

“What did he say?” Suga asks.

Shouyo sighs. “It was like he couldn’t believe I’d think that. He was really upset and he swore there was no one else.”

“So you broke up with him?” Yamaguchi asks.

“I guess. I mean, I didn’t actually say those words. I told him not to be in the apartment when I got home, but I never actually went home.”

“I did. He wasn’t there. I didn’t even know something was up until Suga texted me,” Yamaguchi says.

“And he hasn’t tried to reach you?” Asahi says.

Shouyo shakes his head, rolling over and kicking his feet up towards his ass.

“Do you want to be broken up with him?” Suga asks.

“No.” Shouyo reaches out and pokes the bottom of Yama foot just to watch his toes wriggle. “But I don’t want things to stay the same, either.”

“You should just talk to him,” Asahi says. “I’m sure you can work something out.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Shouyo can feel his bottom lip quiver at the sound of his voice breaking.

“Take your time, Shou,” Suga says in a rush. “You don’t have to talk to him until you’re ready. And we won’t force you to talk about it now, if you don’t want.”

“Yeah, Suga can tell us all about Ukai-san’s noises as he gets his dick sucked!” Yama crows.

Shouyo screeches as the rest of the boys let out surprised laughs, and just like that the weight in Shouyo’s chest is lightened.

 

Almost a week goes by since the last time Tobio saw Hinata, but he’s holding himself together pretty well, he thinks. He puts his secret sketchbooks full of Hinata in the back of his closet. He actually goes to the library to study. He goes back to practice and his performance has never been better. Tsukishima is back to ignoring and avoiding him.

Never mind that he feels just kind of _numb._ Like he’s playing a simulation game about someone else’s life. It’s not like he didn’t expect to lose Hinata in the first place, he reasons. This doesn’t seem to make him feel any less…whatever he’s feeling (or not feeling?), but maybe he can get better at convincing himself. Daichi and Iwaizumi seem to hover around him a little, which makes him feel weird, but everything seems to go back to normal.

Daichi and Tobio on their way to practice one day, when Daichi insists that they stop at the coffee shop for a drink. 

“It’s too hot, I need something iced to live,” he grumbles.

Tobio has a terrible foreboding feeling crawling down the back of his neck. The coffee shop doesn’t feel like a place where he belongs anymore. But Daichi does, he reasons, and they’ll only be there for a little while.

“Okay,” he agrees, a little pleased by Daichi’s bright grin.

The air conditioning rushes over their skin as they cross the threshold. Both boys wilt under the sheer pleasure of the cold air, sweat drops chasing each other down the line of Tobio’s spine.

Daichi sucks in a breath next to him, causing Tobio to open his eyes. His gaze immediately collides with a familiar milk chocolate gaze. Suddenly, Tobio can feel his heart pounding in his chest, as he takes in Hinata’s shocked expression.

He’s leaning against the counter on the far side of the store, Suga mirroring him on the other side. They must have been in the middle of a conversation, but they’re both frozen, staring at the door. Tobio can’t take his eyes off of Hinata, the way he’s sunburned a little across his cheeks and neck, the neon-green running shorts he loves riding up his thigh in a way that makes Tobio ache.

He got a haircut, Tobio thinks stupidly. It looks nice.

“Um—”

Just as Daichi opens his mouth, Hinata throws himself over the counter. Suga lets out an embarrassing squawk, but Hinata is already scrabbling for the door to the kitchen. He’s gone with a bang, leaving more than a few startled employees and customers in his wake.

After a beat, Daichi clears his throat. “We should just go to practice.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tobio says absently. He will not internalize this event. “Get your iced thing and say hi to Suga. I’m gonna wait outside.”

He catches Daichi nodding at him out of the corner of his eye as he turns and flees the café. The heat outside is like a weight, settling across his shoulders like a devil of a friend. Tobio turns his eyes upward and tries to count the seconds that tick by.

He isn’t sure what he’d expected, but he’d hoped they could at least be civil with each other. He squeezes his eyes closed and forces himself to breathe against the tide welling up inside him.

It’s fine, he thinks. I’m fine.

 

Kageyama Tobio is the Opposite of fine.

He tries to push away that thought all practice, but he can’t seem to stop fumbling the ball. All his serves are outside the back line, he misses receives like he’s never done them before, and his tosses are all a hair too high or too low. He doubles over after coach blows the whistle, panting at his shoes.

Lately, he can’t ever seem to catch his breath.

Some of his teammates give him slaps on the back as he swipes a sweaty forearm across an equally sweaty face. He watches them go, grabbing Oikawa’s arm as he glides past.

“Could you watch my serve and give me pointers?” he asks lowly.

Oikawa grins and bobs his head. “That’s the spirit, Tobio-chan!”

“Oikawa!”

Both setters turn toward the locker room door, where Iwaizumi is waiting impatiently. Oikawa waves him off, his grin getting a little brighter.

“Tobio-chan wants my help, Iwa-chan!” he calls back. “I can’t miss this golden opportunity to impart my wisdom upon him!”

Iwaizumi’s mouth twitches, and he shakes his head. “Yeah, well, don’t exert yourselves. And remember to cool down properly after.”

Oikawa laughs and turns away from his friend, who lingers for only a few more moments before he disappears to shower with the rest of the team.

Tobio relishes the rhythm they fall into. Oikawa is different, here, with no one to preform for. He takes his time explaining the serve, recorrecting the way Tobio’s feet are placed before he leaves the court floor again and again and again. Tobio says nothing, only pays rapt attention. The exhausted scream of his muscles is pleasant and distracting.

All he needs right now is distraction.

After two hours of hitting balls as hard as they can to the other side of the court, Oikawa throws himself to the floor and begins stretching. Tobio feels his heartrate increase—something that should be impossible, given how hard it’s already beating.

“I don’t think I’ve mastered it, yet,” he says.

“Tobio-chan, part of being the best athlete you can be is to realize when your body needs to stop. Your will is always stronger than your form, and that will get you injured if you’re not careful.” He doesn’t bother looking up at Tobio, but his hand rests briefly on his bad knee before he moves into another stretch.

Something akin to panic is rotting his gut. “I just think—”

“I don’t care what you think.” Oikawa cuts him down with a glare. “You asked for my help, and I gave it. I’m still giving it. Don’t waste your career by being stupid, okay?”

Tobio blinks, and then the fight drains out of him. He takes his place on the floor next to Oikawa, letting the older man talk him through his stretches.

He’s so exhausted that he’s shaking, but he feels too wound up still as they reach the locker rooms. He and Oikawa shower and dress in silence, but when they’re packing up, Oikawa’s smooth voice moves across the empty room to Tobio.

“Still having your lovers quarrel with chibi-chan?”

Tobio freezes, the sweaty shirt he was about to throw in his bag crumpling in his fists.

“That bad, hmm?”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” Tobio grinds out. He tries to calm the wild beating of his heart, the jittery nerves that make his bones feel like they’re rubbing together.

“You’re not talking about it with anyone,” Oikawa corrects serenely. “You’re worrying Iwa-chan and Dai-chan.”

Tobio feels like he should say something, or maybe just storm off, but instead he finds his eyes squeezing shut, cutting off the view of his shaking hands. He fights down the rising panic. He’s fine. He’s in control.

He remembers the look in Hinata’s eyes right before he tossed himself over the counter. He remembers the way he looked tired and resigned as he left Tobio sitting alone in the apartment.

Suddenly, there’s a weight on the back of his neck, forcing his head down a little. “Breathe, Kageyama.”

I am, he wants to say, until he realizes that his breath is getting cut off somewhere in his throat, and his chest is heaving. He drops the shirt, and one of his hands comes up to grip Oikawa’s wrist as he squeezes Tobio’s neck a little.

“Kageyama, it’s okay,” Oikawa continues, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you. Just take a deep breath.”

He’s trying, honestly, but the more he tries the less control he has. Vaguely, he feels Oikawa turn him around, pull him in and press Tobio’s face to his shoulder.

“Breathe with me, Kageyama,” he instructs quietly. His voice sounds garbled and far away.

Tobio’s hands fist the back of Oikawa’s shirt as he struggles to comply. He feels Oikawa’s chest expand and deflate with each deep, calm breath. His own breathing stutters and hiccups until he finds himself settling into a semblance of a rhythm. Oikawa smells like fruity shampoo and sweat, the clean kind you get after exercise. Tobio shuts his eyes and presses his face down into Oikawa’s shoulder.

“That’s good, Kageyama.” Even Oikawa’s voice sounds a little clearer to Tobio, now. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

He should be embarrassed by this, he thinks, about the way he’s sandwiched to Oikawa’s body, shaking half-naked in the arms of a man he’s pretty sure he doesn’t even like. But he can’t seem to stop clinging to Oikawa like a lifeline, can’t shake off the hand smoothing across his shoulder blades or the one resting lightly on the back of his neck. He takes in one shaky breath after another and tries not to think about anything else.

Eventually, he feels okay enough to step back. Oikawa’s arms drop to his sides, but he doesn’t move away as Tobio stares at the floor and clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Tobio says. He’s surprised by how strained his voice sounds, but he really shouldn’t be. “I don’t know what happened.”

“You had a panic attack,” Oikawa says. “Have they been frequent?”

Tobio frowns. “I’ve never had one before.”

Oikawa hums. “Well, at least you weren’t alone. They can be scary if you’re not used to them.”

Tobio frowns, but forces his gaze back to Oikawa. “Thank you.”

Oikawa looks genuinely surprised. The hand he had been rubbing the back of his neck with slips back to his side. He pats his thigh and nods. “Yeah, of course, Tobio-chan.”

“You called me Kageyama,” Tobio blurts.

“Yes, I did.” Oikawa smiles a little. “I know you don’t like it when I call you by your nickname.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Oikawa grins. “Whatever you say, Tobio-chan.”

Tobio turns and starts to pack up his things. His skin feels oversensitive, and his body pulses with a bone-deep tiredness he hasn’t felt in a long time. He feels Oikawa retreat back to his locker, and they continue dressing in silence.

“Oikawa,” Tobio says, surprising himself.

“Yes?”

Tobio swallows before turning and meeting Oikawa’s gaze. “How do you know about panic attacks?”

Oikawa blinks, his expression blanking for a second. Eventually he offers a small smile, his expression opening up. “I’ve been getting them since I was little. I wasn’t sure if…hugging you like that would work, but it’s what Iwa-chan’s been doing for me since we were kids.”

Tobio doesn’t know what to think about this. He tries to imagine Oikawa, the quippy asshole, shaking and struggling to breathe in someone else’s arms. It doesn’t quite connect in Tobio’s mind, but it does make him feel closer to Oikawa, if only a little.

“Are Daichi and Iwaizumi still mad at me?” he asks.

Oikawa’s expression screws up. “Mad at you?”

“About Iwaizumi’s birthday,” Tobio prompts.

Oikawa’s quiet. “Why do you think they were mad at you?”

“Because I—” Tobio huffs and tugs on a shirt. “Never mind.”

“No, no. Wait.” Oikawa holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “They weren’t ever mad at you, Tobio-chan. Iwa-chan was a little pissed at me for pushing you to talk when you didn’t want to, but we’re worried, you know? When coach made you take some time off, we thought you might be having a breakdown or something.”

Tobio stares, his tongue glued to the inside of his mouth.

“Iwa-chan and Dai-chan thought we should just give you space, but I knew you wouldn’t talk unless someone made you. But you panicked and left, and then you started avoiding us so I didn’t get the chance to say anything.” He drops his hands and gives Tobio a rueful smile. “Iwa-chan says that the best way I can help someone is to not help them. I’m not very good at it, as you can probably tell.”

Tobio shakes his head and tugs on his bangs. They’re quiet for a moment before Tobio feels words inflate his lungs.

“Hinata broke up with me,” he says.

Oikawa’s eyes widen. “Why?”

“Because…” Tobio’s eyes lift up to the ceiling. “It’s so stupid. But I can’t bring myself to be…intimate, with him.”

“Oh.” Oikawa shifts, his sneaker squeaking against the floor. “Why not? It’s not like you’re a virgin.”

“Yeah, but those times didn’t mean anything and I. Don’t. Want to hurt him.” Tobio’s eyes burn and he tries to blink the feeling away. “Or lose him, I guess.”

“But Tobio-chan, aren’t you already losing him?”

Tobio hums and rubs his mouth.

“Just be honest with him. That’s what partners are for—they’re the ones you can be fully yourself with, the ones you can say whatever is on your mind and know that they’ll listen and try to understand. Don’t let him go because you’re scared, Tobio-chan.”

Tobio glances back at Oikawa. He’s looking down at the bag in his hands, his expression far away and sad. Tobio wonders if he should ask, but he kind of feels like they’ve been too honest with each other to go any further than this. He feels a comfortable weight settle in his chest. It feels like finality. 

“Thank you, Oikawa,” Tobio says. “I’m going to talk to Hinata tomorrow and tell him everything.”

When Oikawa looks up, his smile is boyish and genuine. “I’m rooting for you, Tobio-chan.”

 

Shouyo is just about to climb in his bed when he hears the knock on his door. He considers ignoring it, staring forlornly at his old, soft comforter, and cursing Yamaguchi for going out again. 

The knock sounds again, and Shouyo sighs. He grumbles and makes his way towards the door, not even bothering to call out to the knocker before he wrenches the door open with a huff.

Kageyama blinks, like always, as if he’s surprised anyone answered. Shouyo feels a shock run through his system, an adrenaline reaction to seeing his ex(?) standing unannounced at his doorstep.

He’s still as hot as always, Shouyo thinks. Damn him.

“Um—”

Shouyo cuts him off by turning and walking back to the living room, leaving the door open behind him. He hears Kageyama come in and take off his shoes. He allows himself to yank on his earring one time, before Kageyama steps tentatively into view.

“I thought we could talk,” Kageyama says. “Or, I thought I could talk and you could listen.”

Stay strong, Shouyo, Shouyo thinks as he gestures to the couch. Don’t forgive him just because he’s here and he looks sad, and Oh My God do his thighs look great in those shorts—

Kageyama clears his throat as he sits down, and Shouyo leaves to get a small chair from the kitchen. He places it on the opposite side of the coffee table, settling down without a word.

Kageyama clears his throat again, and Shouyo watches his fingers tap unevenly against his knee. “I guess I’ll just start, then.”

Shouyo blinks at him. Stay strong, Shouyo.

“I don’t think it’s hard for you to imagine that I’ve never really had friends.” He bites his bottom lip and adverts his eyes. “I won’t say I was bullied, but I wasn’t included, either. Ignored mostly. Even my teammates only ever tolerated me. My parents were all I had, really, but I wasn’t even very close with them.

“When I came out at the start of high school, they were furious. They asked me how I knew, if I’d ever kissed a girl, stuff like that. I tried to explain that I didn’t have to be with a girl to know I wasn’t attracted to her, that a boy at one of the volleyball camps had asked me to kiss him, and I did. They tried to make me quit volleyball, but I promised to… _behave_ if they let me keep playing. We basically stopped talking, after that.

“Then we had an exchange student from America at our school who was interested in me. We ignored each other most of the time, since he didn’t want his reputation with girls to be disrupted, but we fooled around a lot on weekends. When he went back to America, I didn’t hear anything from him, but I wasn’t really bothered. We never talked, or anything.

“When I came to college, it was easy to find hookups. I’ve gotten pretty used to people not wanting anything more from me, and it was easy.” Tobio’s gaze drags up to Shouyo’s and locks him into place with its intensity. “And then I met you. And from the beginning it’s been different.”

Shouyo presses his hands against his thighs to keep them from shaking. Kageyama reaches into his bag and pulls out a sketchbook. He holds it tightly on his lap and Shouyo watches him take another deep breath.

“You’re just so open, all the time. I could tell that you wanted me around, that you were interested in what I had to say. It made me feel important, and…cared about.” His knuckles turn white as he grips the book. “I don’t think I knew what it meant to ask you to be my boyfriend. I just knew that if I saw you with someone else, it might have killed me.”

Breathe, Shouyo, Shouyo thinks weakly.

“But it got worse from there,” Kageyama continues. “The more I was around you, the more I wanted you. I didn’t understand that. I didn’t understand why sometimes I’d be in class and think about the way your eyes look when you laugh, or why I’d be in the middle of a match and wonder if you were thinking about me. And I definitely didn’t understand why I was increasingly thinking about biting bruises into your skin.”

Jesus Christ, Shouyo thinks. Do not get a boner right now.

Kageyama’s gaze is clear as he hands Shouyo the sketchbook. Shouyo takes it automatically, flipping it open without a second thought.

The first few pages are of Shouyo laughing, his different facial expressions, the way he holds a volleyball. He smiles, perusing them, trying not to feel nervous by the intensity of Kageyama’s gaze on his face.

He pauses when the drawings become a little more risqué, with flushed cheeks and wet lips. Shouyo recognizes one as a snapshot from the party, another of him shirtless and panting on the couch. He actually blushes a few pages later when the images become downright pornographic, with Shouyo fisting is own cock, mouth open and drooling a little from pleasure, his chest and thighs littered with hickies and bites.

Kageyama clears his throat. “I have very vivid dreams.”

Shouyo nods absently, allows Kageyama to reach out and close the sketchbook.

“It’s never been a question of whether or not I want you,” Kageyama says, his words starting to run together as he forces them from his mouth. “It’s that I became afraid of wanting you too much. I’m not used to feeling so…out of control, I guess. I started worrying about it all the time, worrying that you would find out about it and be disgusted, or that I’d lose myself and end up hurting you, like when I bit you so hard you bled. 

“It started to mess with me all the time—I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then coach asked me to take a leave from the team to clear my head, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, but I also didn’t know how to let myself be open with you like that. I thought that hurting you physically was the worst it could get, but that night that you cried…I know I don’t deserve you, Hinata, and that kind of solidified it for me. But what I feel for you…”

There’s a long pause, in which Kageyama seems to war with himself. Shouyo takes an unsteady breath, prompts, “Kageyama?”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much that I think it might kill me sometimes. I’m not saying that to make you feel bad or to guilt you into taking me back. I’m saying it because it’s the truth, and you deserve to know. When I'm not with you, I just feel...empty. Like I'm filled to the top with nothing. And I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. You deserve better.”

Shouyo doesn’t even know if he’s still breathing. His chest is crowded with so many emotions and words and he doesn’t even know where to begin. Kageyama lifts a shaky hand to the back of his mouth and rubs lightly, keeping a bright and desperate gaze on Shouyo as he does so.

“You,” Shouyo says, “are an idiot, Kageyama Tobio.”

Kageyama nods.

“You’re an idiot for not realizing that I’m in love with you, too.” Shouyo stands, his hands curling into fists at his side. “You’re an idiot for not telling me that you were nervous, and for keeping secrets from me. You made me feel brushed aside, unimportant. Unwanted.”

Kageyama winces when Shouyo’s voice cracks, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You’re an idiot for not telling me all this sooner!” Shouyo squawks. “You. Are. An. Idiot. And if you don’t come over here and kiss me right now, I swear to God I’ll punch you in your stupid handsome face.”

Kageyama blinks for a moment before getting to his feet slowly. “Hinata?”

“Oh, my God!” Shouyo throws his hands in the air. “I told you early on that I’m a straightforward person. All you had to do was fucking apologize and tell me what’s going on in that thick head of yours! And you call me the dumbass!”

Kageyama makes his way around the table slowly, as if he’s sure this is a trap.

“But you’re right; I do deserve better than how you’ve treated me.” When Kageyama stops in his tracks, Shouyo reaches out and fists his shirt, dragging him closer until they’re flush against each other. “That’s why you’re going to tell me whenever you’re freaking out, so I can tell you to stop being so stupid. That’s how you’re going to make it up to me.”

There’s a moment where they’re just staring at each other, inhaling and exhaling in rythmn, feeling the beating of each other’s hearts through their skin. And then their mouths are crashing together, and Shouyo is lighting up from the inside out, unable to stop his hands from shaking as he threads them through the softness of Kageyama’s hair and tugs him closer, opening his mouth to spill their tongues together.

It’s not long before Shouyo maneuvers Kageyama into the chair he’d vacated, straddling him to rock their hips together, feeding the fire igniting between them. Kageyama’s hands are leaving bruises on Shouyo’s waist, and Shouyo is biting a mark into Kageyama’s neck before one of them gets enough sense to start speaking.

“If we start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop, this time,” Kageyama pants, tipping his head back to give Shouyo better access.

“That’s kind of the plan,” Shouyo says against Kageyama’s skin. He puts enough space between them to reach down and cup Kageyama through his jeans.

Kageyama groans, a deep sound wrenched from somewhere in his chest. “Fuck, Shouyo, are you sure—”

At the sound of his name, Shouyo whimpers and grinds down hard on Kageyama. They both make a strangled sort of sound before Shouyo bites at Kageyama’s mouth.

“Shut. Up,” he demands.

Kageyama responds by fighting Shouyo out of his shirt, perturbed when one of Shouyo’s arms gets stuck and they waste precious kissing time battling the fabric. As soon as his chest is in view, Kageyama leans down and nips at his collarbone, running cool hands up the pale expanse of Shouyo’s back. It’s not much longer until Shouyo has stripped Kageyama of his shirt, their kisses getting sloppier as they run heavy palms over each other’s clothed erections.

“Bedroom,” Shouyo stutters. 

Kageyama stands quickly, one hand moving to support the back of one of Shouyo’s thighs, the other biting little cresent moons into his shoulders as he carries him back. They bounce off the hallway wall once, as Shouyo takes Kageyama’s earlobe into his mouth and sucks hard enough to make the other man’s knees weak.

As soon as Kageyama dumps him on the bed, Shouyo’s hands are fumbling with his own zipper. Kageyama slides a knee between Shouyo’s thighs, reaching down to still Shouyo’s movements.

Shouyo shoots an annoyed glance at Kageyama. “If you tell me to stop, I think I’ll literally kill you.”

Kageyama shakes his head, a flush crawling under the tanned skin of his face. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Then what is it?” 

“I want to take my time.” Kageyama releases Shouyo’s hands in favor of sliding his hot palms across Shouyo’s trembling stomach and chest. “I want you to enjoy this as much as possible.”

Shouyo grins.

He abandons his zipper in favor of flopping his hands next to his ears, curling them a little on instinct as Kageyama continues to smooth his fingertips across Shouyo’s skin. He can feel the desperate heat inside him cooling, transforming into something gentler. His eyes drift close as Kageyama leans his long frame over Shouyo’s smaller one, hands pushing his waist firmly into the mattress while lips ghost over his collarbone.

Shouyo releases an involuntary _Ah!_ as Kageyama’s tongue dips inside the hollow of his throat, traces a line down the center of his chest. His thumbs are kneading firm circles by Shouyo’s hipbones, on the verge of tickling but not quite, which makes Shouyo squirm a bit underneath him.

He loses himself in the rythmn of Kageyama’s mouth and hands, and before he knows it, he’s lost in a haze of lust and undeniable affection, his dick surging harder at the thought that, yes, this is _finally_ happening. It’s happening, and he’s Kageyama’s, and he can feel it in every sloppy kiss on his skin, every reverant nip of his teeth.

To top it off, when Kageyama finally makes it back to Shouyo’s face, he sucks hard on Shouyo’s bottom lip, releases it to grind their hips together and growl, “I love you,” against the side of Shouyo’s mouth.

Shouyo can’t help but groan, pressing a thumb against the corner of Kageyama’s mouth as he pants out a shivery, “I love you, too,” that makes Kageyama’s eyes bright and sharp. He kisses at the thumb on his lips before his tongue darts out to kitten lick.

On impulse, Shouyo slips into Kageyama’s mouth, disappearing to the knuckle as he brushes the pad against Kageyama’s tongue. Kageyama watches Shouyo’s face intently, opening his mouth a little wider. His breath is hot and damp against Shouyo’s hand, and it’s erotic in a way Shouyo doesn’t quite understand. He presses down, pinning Kageyama’s tongue. Kageyama’s eyes go glassy as he closes full lips around Shouyo’s thumb and _sucks._

Shouyo groans, deep and rough, his hips jumping up to seek friction. Kageyama gives it to him, recriprocating the movement, causing little stars of pleasure to bloom white hot behind Shouyo’s eyes. Kageyama doesn’t stop his assult until Shouyo is a writhing, whining mess beneath him.

Eventually, he releases Shouyo’s thumb, kissing down his twitching hand until he can suck and bite at Shouyo’s wrist. Shouyo hums, pleasure spiking in a different way as he watches Kageyama mark the sentitive area.

“I want you inside me,” Kageyama growls against Shouyo’s bruised skin.

Shouyo stills, unsure if he understood that. He tries to blink away some of the haze.

“You have lube and stuff, right?” Kageyama asks, his gaze full of fire and desperation.

Shouyo blinks again. “Uh—I mean, yeah. So you want me to—”

“Fuck me into the mattress, yeah.”

The two men stare at each other for a moment, the only sound between them one of heavy breathing in a quiet room.

“Please,” Kageyama says.

Shouyo can feel every single night up until this one flood his system: the sweet heat of their first kisses; the makeout after their first real date; the way they moved together when they danced, and the way Kageyama had kissed him at his door that night; the nights they spent not-watching movies; every single time the green light switched to red and left Shouyo aching and wanting.

He’s surprised by how calm his voice sounds when he says, “Get naked and lay on your back.”

Kageyama scrambles to comply, shooting backwards off the bed so he can yank off the rest of his clothes. Shouyo darts around him, rummaging around his dresser drawer for the open bottle of lube and a condom. He fully intends to dart back to the bed, but the sight of Kageyama spread out, bare and shaking, stops him dead in his tracks.

He’s still lanky, but it’s much easier to see defined muscles from years of practice without soft, baggy shirts in the way. His skin is naturally darker than Shouyo’s, and is complimented nicely by the raven-colored hair dusting the space under his navel and across his thighs. And, God, _his thighs._ Shouyo wants to sink his teeth in them, to bite and lick and mark his way up to—

Jesus. Christ. Kageyama’s _huge._

Kageyama turns a little red the longer Shouyo stares. “Shouyo…”

“You’re fucking perfect, Tobio,” Shouyo breathes.

Something in Kageyama’s expression breaks, and he bites his lip as his fingers ghost over his own cock. Something hungry howls in Shouyo’s mind, but he tampers it down as best he can. He can watch Kageyama jerk off some other time. Right now, he wants to be a ltitle more hands-on.

In an instant, he finds himself at the bedside, tossing his finds onto the bed before stepping out of his own clothes. Kageyama’s gaze on him makes him even hotter, as he knew it would back when Shouyo had convinced Kageyama to sext him. Kageyama sits up a little as Shouyo kneels between his legs, brushing his fingertips over the leaking head of Shouyo’s erection.

The touch is featherlight, but it nearly folds Shouyo in half with the intensity. He hadn’t even noticed that he was hard enough to hurt, focused more on the blending of past and present, fantasy and reality. He prays to whatever gods are out there that he can even last before he can push himself inside Kageyama.

Kageyama lets out a breathless chuckle. “And you call me perfect.”

Shouyo actually whimpers, reaching out blindly for the bottle of lube. “S-stop, I—I can’t hear that, right now—”

“You have a praise kink?” Kageyama has the audacity to sound surprised.

Shouyo looks up and gives him his best glare as he coats his fingers with the sticky gel. Kageyama blinks, a michevious glint flashing across his expression, before Shouyo pushes him back against the sheets, abandoning the bottle and hooking his dry hand under one of Kageyama’s knees.

He only teases Kageyama enough to know that he isn’t tense before pushing a finger in straight to the second knuckle. Both men groan, Kageyama’s strangling off into a whimper at the end.

“You’re so fucking _ready_ for me,” Shouyo says, pushing farther in with little resistance.

“You’re not the only one who’s been waiting,” Kageyama shoots back. His knees fall open a little more, and Shouyo contemplates leaning forward to lap at the mess Kageyama’s making on his own stomach.

Instead, he pulls his finger almost all the way out before adding another. This is more of a challenge, but Kageyama relaxes fairly quickly after a few thrusts. They fall into a nice rythmn, but Shouyo becomes increasingly frustrated the longer he has to hunt for what he’s looking for. If Kageyama realizes, he doesn’t say anything, opting instead to curl his hands into the sheets and gasp each time his body clenches around Shouyo’s fingers.

Shouyo positively grins when he hits Kageyama’s prostate and the man _shouts._ “There?”

“Fuck—ah!—fuck you,” Kageyama growls weakly.

“No,” Shouyo says, pressing into that spot with purpose. “Fuck _you._ ”

Kageyama’s shout turns into a groan, and he opens his eyes to glare at Shouyo. It’s lacking its usual intensity, but the sentiment is there all the same. “That was terrible.”

Shouyo hums his agreement into the skin over Kageyama’s hip, biting lightly as he pulls out far enough to add a third finger. He goes slow, allowing Kageyama time to twich and fight against the stretch. It gives Shouyo space to wander his mouth over to Kageyama’s now-flagging erection and suckle at the spot right under the head.

Kageyama bucks up a little into the sensation, and this seems to be the key to him relaxing. Shouyo taks his time, ghosts teasing fingertips over Kageyama’s prostate, slicking his cock with wet lips and tongue until there’s an obvious shake in Kageyama’s thighs.

“Shouyo.” 

Shouyo knows a warning when he hears one. He slows his movements, sitting back on his feet to stare at the flush on Kageyama’s chest.

“Are you—”

_“Yes.”_

Shouyo nods quickly, trying to be slow as he pulls his fingers from Kageyama. He still notices a small wince, but Kageyama’s already got the condom and is ripping it open with shaky but deft fingers. He passes it to Shouyo, who slides it on with a little less grace.

Kageyama grabs a pillow and shoves it under his hips. Shouyo shuffles forward a little, but ignores the way Kageyama is spreading his thighs in favor of leaning far up his body and capturing his mouth.

Kageyama kisses back eagerly, his fingers raking down Shouyo’s back. Shouyo revels in the rush of affection he feels as Kageyama’s lips move over his, as they breathe in each other’s air.

Shouyo pulls back to line himself up, smoothing a hand across Kageyama’s lower belly as he sinks in slowly.

He only gets about halfway before he has to stop, wrapping his fingers around Kageyama’s cock and giving it a few gentle tugs. Kageyama stays completely still, although his eyes are squeezed too tight to be comfortable.

“You’re so tight,” Shouyo murmurs absently, trying to ignore his body’s impulse to _thrust now._

Kageyama shakes his head slightly, draws in a deep breath. “You’re just…big.”

Shouyo scoffs weakly. “You’re bigger.”

“I’m longer.” Kageyama’s eyes open, and Shouyo can tell he’s relaxing into the intrusion. “You’re wider. It’s a big difference.”

Shouyo hums noncommitantly, and sucks absently at the inside of one of Kageyama’s knees. Soon, Kageyama’s other foot kicks lightly at Shouyo’s side, and he nods, leaning forward and pushing farther in.

As soon as he bottoms out, Shouyo knows this isn’t going to last long for him at all. Kageyama’s body feels like it was made for him, pulling and squeezing in just the right way. He pulls halfway out and pushes back in slowly, reveling in the white static buzzing ever louder between his ears. The fact that this is happening at all, chased after Shouyo’s movements, rolling pleasure under his skin in cresting waves every time he moved inside Kageyama.

“Faster,” Kageyama pants, his body flushing with newfound pleasure. “Shou, please, just—”

Shouyo doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He opens his knees a little wider, presses Kageyama’s thighs back towards his body, and fucks into him with earnest. The harder his thrusts, the noiser he seems to get, calling out Shouyo’s name and half thought little praises that dig through Shouyo’s system right to his heart. 

Shouyo wants to echo him, wants to tell him how good it feels to be buried in his gorgeous body, wants to tell him how much it means to be allowed to do so. But he’s been taken to a place beyond words, and except for the gasps and groans forced out of him by the squeeze of Kageyama around his dick, Shouyo is almost silent.

His orgasm builds so quickly that he hardly has time to realize it before his balls are tightening and he’s shouting, “Tobio!” in a voice that sounds like a stranger’s, it’s so rough and wrecked. He manages to keep his hips snapping forward through it, even though he loses the ability to sense anything except for the fine pinpoint of pleasure radiating out from his groin.

When he comes back into himself, forehead smearing sweat across Kageyama’s chest, Shouyo realizes that while his boyfriend has gone quiet—reduced to heaving breaths and the occasional whine—it’s not in the same way Shouyo has. Quickly, Shouyo grabs onto Kageyama’s erection, tugging and squeezing it while his mouth moves over to one of Kageyama’s nipples.

It seems to bring Kageyama to life, and he groans while Shouyo laps at and rolls the hard nub of flesh carefully between his teeth. Kageyama’s cock pulses in his hand, and Shouyo works him faster, sure that Kageyama is rapidly approaching the edge.

“Let me see what you look like when you come, Tobio,” he growls against his chest.

Shouyo pulls back just in time to watch Kageyama’s expression blank out, his eyes nothing but blue haze as his jaw slacks and the first jolt of his groin splashes the evidence of his orgasm over Shouyo’s fist and stomach. Shouyo works him through it, ignoring the almost-painful clench of Kageyama’s muscles around his flagging erection in favor of the blissed-out expression softening Kageyama’s features.

Shouyo pulls out of his partner’s body as gently as he can, tying off the condom quickly and throwing it on the floor to get rid of later. He wipes them off hastily with the sheet, wiggling up under one of Kageyama’s arms to settle in.

“You good?” he asks, pressing a kiss against the side of Kageyama’s neck.

“Mmm,” Kageyama responds. One of his hands rests lightly on Shouyo’s back, swiping gently through the sweat there before collapsing back to the mattress.

“Are you dead?” Shouyo asks.

A small smile creeps over Kageyama’s lips and he huffs a little laugh. “I might be. That was…”

“Yeah,” Shouyo agrees quietly.

For once, he thinks, he doesn’t need Kageyama’s words to know exactly what he’s thinking. He closes his eyes and relaxes happily into the overwarm body beside him.

 

“Hey, Shou, Kageyama-kun, can you pause that for a minute?”

Tobio turns and squints at Yamaguchi’s unexpected form hovering behind the couch. Shouyo squawks, scrambling away from where he’d been nestled into Tobio’s side. Tobio can feel his mouth pinching down in an unhappy frown, confused as to why Yamaguchi is in his apartment, but more unhappy that their first movie date since they got back together a few weeks ago has been disturbed.

“Yama!” Shouyo crows, leaning over the back of the couch. “What are you doing here?”

“Well.” Yamaguchi clears his throat and runs a hand through his messy hair. He glances back at Tsukishima, who’s lurking behind him.

Tobio sits up slowly, his heart starting to beat loudly in his chest. Everything about this situation is off and weird, and he can already tell he’s not going to like what’s about to happen.

“Tsukki and I have been talking, and we’ve decided that we would like to move in together,” Yamaguchi says, his voice squeezing into a higher octive than normal.

Tobio blinks at him. “Is this a joke?”

“Ah, no.” Yamaguchi twists his hands together and looks to Tsukishima for support.

The blond stays quiet, only moving to nudge his glasses further up his nose.

“Why?” Shouyo demands.

“It’s, well, it’s complicated? Tsukki and I…we’re, er—”

“Fucking,” Tsukishima deadpans.

Yamaguchi grins, even though his face turns red. 

Shouyo shrieks a devastated, _“WHAT!?”_ while Tobio shakes his head and turns the movie back on. His boyfriend knees him in the stomach in his excitement, but rather than scold him, Tobio just shifts out of the way. He runs his fingers lightly over the backs of Shouyo’s calves. He can already see where this conversation is headed, but it’s clear Shouyo is hung up on the more…unsavory details. 

“Since when?” Shouyo demands. 

“Since before you guys got together. Look—” Kageyama can imagine Yamaguchi holding his hands up in defeat, trying to shield them from the storm of Shouyo’s indignance. “I can tell you the whole thing another time, just you and me, okay, Shou? I— _we_ —just want to bring it up because we are gonna ask if you and Kageyama want to take one apartment and Tsukki and I can take the other?”

Kageyama moves his gaze from the TV to the side of Shouyo’s face. It’s almost comical to see the realization dawn on him, before his wide, hazel eyes dart towards Kageyama.  


“You don’t have to know now, of course, we just wanted to bring it up. Take your time talking, and stuff,” Yamaguchi continues.

There’s a question in Shouyo’s gaze. Kageyama squeezes his ankle and raises an eyebrow.

“Do you need time to think about it?” Kageyama asks.

“No,” Shouyo breathes.

“Me either.” Kageyama turns his eyes back to the movie. “Let’s take your place. It’s a little closer for Yamaguchi to get to work from here.”

Shouyo chats about the finer details with Yamaguchi for a little longer, and Tobio can feel his barely restrained energy crackling through the air. He continues to pet Shouyo’s ankle, removing his phone from his pocket as it vibrates.

From: Iwaizumi-san  
>>Busy tonight?

To: Iwaizumi-san  
>>Yeah with Hinata for date night

From: Iwaizumi-san  
>>Ah, sorry for interrupting.  
>>I was gonna invite you to a drink with us

Kageyama feels himself smile a little as he taps out his response.

To: Iwaizumi-san  
>>Rain check?  
>>Hinata and I are moving in together, btw

From: Iwaizumi-san  
>>Rain check, definitely. And congrats!

From: Satan-chan  
>>MY LITTLE TOBIO-CHAN IS GROWNING UP!!!!!!!!!!  
>>When do you move in??  
>>Have you found a place??  
>>I will bake chibi-chan a congrats cake and bring it to Refreshing-kun’s work!!  
>>BUT DON’T TELL HIM TOBIO-CHAN I WANT IT TO BE A SURPRISE

Tobio snorts and ignores Oikawa’s increasing slew of messages.

To: Iwaizumi-san  
>>Good luck with that

From: Iwaizumi-san  
>>It’s like second nature to deal with him now, honestly

Shouyo leans over Tobio’s body, caging him against the couch. Tobio lets his phone hit the floor and turns his attention to the firey expression in front of him.

“We’re moving in together,” Shouyo says.

Kageyama smiles. “I know, dumbass, I was there for the conversation.”

“Want to go back to our place and celebrate?” Shouyo bites his lip and wiggles his eyebrows a little.

Kageyama flicks his forehead before dragging him down for a kiss. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” he says against his boyfriend’s smiling mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What you don't see: Kageyama attempting to give Hinata a great blowjob, and Hinata not being able to stop talking about TsukkiYama, and Kageyama getting mad and them squabbling about it. I figured this was a cuter ending ;)
> 
> There is a lot I need to say<3
> 
> First of all, thank you for sticking with me through this. It's been a struggle, but you have given me enough love to fill me up and keep going through it. Thanks a billion times, and know I'm hugging you all!
> 
> Next, this is the first time I've written any kind of sex, so I'm open to suggestions and comments. However, if they're constructive, I'd rather receive them privately through tumblr. Call me a delicate flower, but I'm struggling enough with writing, and get weird about this public sphere. I would still appreciate your comments here, as well! Just...not about the sex ;)
> 
> ALSO WHO IS READY FOR SOME DAISUGA. They're the next couple in the Without Knowing How lineup, though it's going to be a bit different--instead of a few long chapters, I'll update weekly or bi-weekly with smaller ones. This way I can get you guys the story faster without overwhelming myself with work from this project and my behind-schedule thesis. Speaking of Sugamama, I know some of you will be upset by the lack of Suga's response to the breakup. Since I'm weaving all these stories together for this series, I needed to let some things slide so that the fics that follow aren't redundant. SO, you will see Suga react to Shouyo's heartbreak...just from his perspective instead. 
> 
> THANKS AGAIN OMG I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH AND THIS NOTE IS TOO LONG WHY DO YOU PUT UP WITH ME.
> 
> http://positivecomet.tumblr.com/


End file.
